Battered But Not Broken
by Chaosia Guadimus
Summary: MURDOCK-CENTRIC! He pleaded in a small voice, threatening to break her heart with his words. "Why did they leave me? I did my best. I did my duty. I didn't break. I'm only cracked. I'm not broken . . . why don't they want me anymore?" Small crossover.
1. Dire Circumstances

_Okay. I am finding myself compelled to write something and none of my normal stories will cooperate. But for some reason this has taken over my brain and refuse to leave it. So, here it is. A crossover! Yay! Gone in Sixty Seconds definitely needed another one and the A-Team library is ever expanding . . . and for some reason I can't seem to shake all of the wonderful ways I can torture everybody if I just pushed a little of these two together. So here you have it. I haven't decided on pairings yet . . ._

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* * *

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**Dire Circumstances**

Long Beach had been one of the best places in the world to set up shop . . . especially for four wrongly accused federal fugitives. Well, three federal fugitives and an escaped mental patient, if you had to be technical. Because who in their right mind would set up shop in the same city they'd _**escaped**_ custody from? _**No one**_, that's who. Which is why it was the perfect place to hide in plain sight . . .

_Or so they'd thought . . ._

Hannibal sighed, glancing back at Murdock's quivering and bleeding form as he curled tighter into a ball. His head was on Face's thigh, the XO trying to soothe him by petting his hair and murmuring reassurances to the pilot like one would a small child. Because at this point, that's about all that was left of H.M. Murdock other than a bleeding mess.

B.A. tensed as they turned onto a back service road, slowing to stop in front of one of the many abandoned buildings and scrap yards. This was the side of Long Beach that was perfect for anyone illegal to hide in . . . indefinitely. The burly Ranger glanced at Hannibal, motioning for them to get out. They had to come up with a plan quick and they couldn't do it with Murdock clinging to Face while he tried to hold himself together.

As soon as they exited the vehicle, a faded older Hum Vee Face had happened across and B.A. had fixed, B.A.'s shoulders sagged. The events of the past few weeks had drained them all-enough that they had willingly come here to hide. The new Lynch was a far cry from his bumbling predecessor . . . and the team he'd assembled to track them was damn good at their job. In smaller cities and rural areas, like the town they'd been in before, they were too noticeable. Too easy of targets . . . and these bastards had been ruthless in trying to cull their little team of it's _perceived_ weakest link.

They'd never expected Murdock to resist. To fight and refuse to divulge any information on the others . . . even after the torture methods started. Murdock had been singing Right Round when they'd showed up to save him from the decrepit warehouse in La Veme, cackling wildly as the man over him had seared his flesh with the hot knife. The look in the pilot's green eyes had said it all; the _real _Murdock had checked out and left the voices to play with his captors.

Hannibal shook his head, pulling a cigar from the inside pocket of his jacket and clutching it between his teeth. They didn't have time to worry, to mull over every mistake and blunder they'd made that led to this . . . they had to get Murdock somewhere to get help fast . . . or there wasn't going to be anything left of the pilot's fragile mind worth saving. _If there even was now . . ._

"What're we gonna do, Hannibal? He's _messed_ up. _**Bad**_. Worse than he was when we found him in Mexico . . . or when we got him in Germany. I think they_ broke_ him, Colonel."

Hannibal growled, lighting the cigar and puffing before turning to eye B.A. carefully. It was no secret that despite their tenuous working relationship, and Murdock's hand in Baracus's fear of flying, B.A. was worried about the way they'd discovered their friend. And the impact his capture and holding had left in its wake. But Baracus was also practical . . . which would give him an ally in what would ultimately have to happen. Soon.

"We've got to take him to get help, B.A. As much as I loathe the idea, however temporary it might be, it'll have to be pretty quick. Murdock is strong . . . but even strong people can break under what they did to him. He needs this . . . and we'll have to do it. Are you with me, son?"

* * *

B.A.'s eyes hardened but he nodded, understanding the significance the conversation held. Face wasn't going to abandon anybody, even if it was for their own good. Hannibal was saying they'd have to leave Murdock at a hospital . . . but where?

"Yes sir. Crazy fool don't deserve it, but if it'll help, I pray to God he'll forgive us. Where are we taking him?"

Hannibal sighed, his own shoulders sagging under the weight of what was about to happen. And it was with that that B.A. knew how hard this was for Hannibal. He'd gone after all of them before, refusing to leave a man-a friend-behind regardless of the situation or the risk . . . and now he had to plan on abandoning their friend. Hannibal suddenly looked so much older than he had before they'd taken this job . . . and B.A. knew he had the same sour bile in his throat about how this was going to go down.

Suddenly, a clap of thunder roared through the otherwise quiet night air and the sky opened, blanketing both Rangers in an almost solid curtain of rain. Hannibal sighed, still puffing on his now wet and dying cigar as they made their way back to the Hum Vee.

_Damn Lynch to the depths of Hell for forcing them to do this._

"Give me twenty minutes, Sergeant. Then we're moving out."

* * *

Chaosia Guadimus was bored out of her mind. But that was to be expected when one worked the graveyard receptionist shift at Camarillo. Granted the work was easy and it gave her plenty of time to study for her final round of psychology classes . . . but nights like tonight, when she was already eight chapters ahead and all of the paperwork was current, she wished that a patient would need to be admitted. Just to give her something to do _other_ than doodle.

And try not to cringe at the torrential downpour that had started in the past hour. She hated thunderstorms. And being here, in the stark white nothingness of an old asylum really didn't help the fear abate.

Her cell phone went off as it danced across the desk, causing her to peek at who was calling her. Or texting her, rather. The damned phone had been going off all night . . . but it didn't mean she wanted to deal with it.

She groaned, rolling her eyes.

Atley Jackson had sent her _another_ text message. She sighed, touching the screen to open the message and bit down the scream trying to bubble from her lips. Why could that man not get a damn clue?

_Are you sure you're okay with all of this?_

She sighed, replying for the millionth time in the past hour. For some reason, Atley had taken to her the most of the older sect of her brother's friends . . . well, other than Sway that is. And she loved him to death, like an extra older brother who didn't usually harass and annoy her, but today she was about to kill him. Or commit him.

Things had gone so well for almost eight damned months, with them meeting for lunches and her splitting her off time between the younger crew and him. Until she'd been introduced to his friend, Sphinx. That's when her world shifted and turned on itself, because no matter what she did or who she tried to date she couldn't seem to shake her crush on the stoic boost. Which had been fine until she'd let on too much to Atley and Sway. When At had found that she'd been interested in his friend, he'd been determined to play matchmaker until Sway and Memphis had stopped him.

Now, almost three years later, Sphinx didn't know she existed unless he was eating with her and Atley on Wednesdays or he bumped into her at the garage. He'd only said one thing _about_ her (which she should've been thankful for she guessed) and that was to her brother, Mikhail. She didn't really know what the exact words had been but the general gist of it was he didn't think she needed to learn to boost or fight or any of the stuff her brother had been teaching her since she could crank an automobile at seven.

She huffed, hitting send before turning her phone off completely.

Sphinx would probably shit himself if he knew that she'd been taught to boost by one of the best-her father. Mikhail was just teaching her new things and helping her refine the newer techniques she'd learned over the past few years of having to fend for herself in Seal Beach before she could afford to move to where her brother had relocated. Just how in the hell did he think she'd afforded the tiny apartment she'd bought or her car or the psychology degree she was currently pursuing? He should know just as well as the others that money didn't grow on trees . . . and she wasn't above pulling a Robin Hood with a few European Ladies to make sure she could take care of herself and Mikhail in the future. _Or pulling a graveyard shift at her legal job to reap the benefits of the shift deferential . . ._

Chaosia sighed, flipping her golden blonde hair over her shoulders before looking down at her scrubs. The fitted white scrub top was as bright as the walls and tiles, almost blinding in its starkness, save the red Camarillo crest over the left breast. Her pants were pretty much the same. She had a red cardigan to put on when it got too cold . . . and red and white pumas to match the outfit. That, coupled with the wide rimmed tortoise shell glasses and light make up made her seem more like a kid playing dress up than a twenty five year old psychology intern and BSN . . . but it _was_ professional.

_At least she didn't have to wear the skirt she had to wear during her normal duty rotation._

As a freshly crowned intern, she was expected to wear scrubs when she was actually on the floor but during therapy, classes and meetings she had to be dressed overly professionally. So much so that she was going to give up and just buy stock in Express and the Limited if she wasn't able to go back to just scrubs soon.

She wasn't raking in the doctor dollars yet . . . and even when she did she couldn't see herself wasting so much on trivialities like clothes. She had bills, a classic car and a brother to take care of . . . she didn't have time for the rest of that crap.

A loud bang jolted her out of her thoughts just as the hospital went black.

She groaned, already able to hear the screams and shouts from the units around her.

_At least she wasn't going to have to deal with that tonight. _

She turned, procuring her exam light from her bag and tugging on her cardigan before moving towards the glass entryway. With the power out she'd have to make sure the doors didn't lock _them_ in . . . while making sure no one _else_ got out. Thankfully, the only people on the two lowest floors were the less severe patients. Anyone to really worry about was upstairs behind nice, heavy doors that locked when the power cut and had to be manually opened with huge keys she hated to try and work.

As she got closer, using the light from her torch and the emergency lights that had kicked on, Chaosia started inspecting the entry and the parking lot beyond. She would wait here until one of the guys from security came down to stay with her . . _. hopefully anyone but Caine. _

* * *

As Chaosia went to turn and survey the lot again, movement caught her eye. She turned, seeing Terrance coming her way as she peered through the door. She sighed, thankful to see the mocha skinned man smiling at her as he made his way to the doors. His hair was to his chin in dreads, pulled back from his face and light hazel eyes by a black headband to match his uniform. Terrance had been at Camarillo for almost six years and had helped her feel more at ease when she'd been shoved through the doors at the behest of her professor. He'd helped her keep her bearings with his kind smile and overall teddy bear attitude . . . despite his being nearly 6'5'' and 250 lbs. of pure muscle.

"Hey, Chaos. Whatcha got?"

She angled the light, the beam barely penetrating the still pouring rain and the veil of darkness in the parking lot. She was sure she'd seen something moving . . .

She jumped, causing Terrance to put a hand on the Taser gun at his belt, stepping forward.

"I don't know for sure Ter, but I think there's someone out there."

He glanced at her, eyes narrowed before going to open the door.

"I'll go look, okay? But if no one's out there then you owe me a cup o' Joe. Deal?"

She nodded, pulling the cardigan tighter around her as she watched him make his way into the rain. A few seconds later, he emerged . . . carrying a very bruised, bloody and sobbing man.

Chaosia felt herself switch into nurse mode, thankful she had worked so long in the Seal Beach ER while she was doing her Doctorate and ran out, not giving a thought to the rain or the danger of doing so. As soon as she was at Terrance, she helped him get the now nearly hysterical man into the building, shedding her sweater to hold pressure on the large seeping wound running down his exposed side.

She winced internally as she started trying to talk to him, working quickly to make sure the cashmere didn't stick to the seared and raw flesh around the wound. Whoever had done this had been thorough and sadistic. They burned him badly enough to prevent him bleeding to death then reopened the wound to bleed him. This man had been tortured.

"**_NO!_** Don't let them leave me! **_PLEASE!_** PLEASE DON'T LET THEM **_LEAVE_** ME! I'm **_sorry_** I was bad! I_ swear_ I won't do it again! I'll be more careful. TELL 'em Billy! We'll be more careful!"

Chaosia and Terrance maneuvered him to the receptionist station, Terrance bearing most of his weight as Chaosia leaned over and hit the call button. Thank God it was on the back up generator with the E-VAC lights . . .

She looked up, glasses sliding off her nose and to the floor before she could catch them. She sighed.

"C'mon Ter, let's put him down. He's killing us to hold him."

Terrance nodded, helping her ease him to the floor. The second his body connected with the sterile linoleum, however, the man started fighting harder. He cracked Terrance in the face, pushing against him with enough force to shove the large man back a few inches. He kept swinging his arms, yelling and screaming as Chaosia tried to dodge the onslaught of limbs.

"YOU'LL** NEVER _BREAK _**ME! **_NEVER!_** I'm **_NOT_** GOING!"

His side was now gushing, dark blood pouring from the gaping wound. Chaosia leaned in, ducking an elbow and held her sweater tighter. The contact broke the man's thoughts, causing him to look at her. He lowered his arms, almost as if in defeat as his bottom lip trembled. His shaggy hair falling into a face that, under different circumstances would have been extremely attractive . . . with striking green eyes that broadcasted his fears and paranoia at being abandoned and abused.

He pleaded to her in a small voice, threatening to break her heart with his words.

"Why did they leave me? I did my best. I did my duty. I didn't break. I'm only _cracked_. I'm not broken . . . why don't they _want_ me anymore?"

Chaosia didn't know whether it was the desperation in his eyes or the utterly devastated sound of his voice . . . but something compelled her to reach out and brush the scruffy hair from his face, cupping his un-bruised cheek with one hand as she applied pressure to his wound with the other.

"I don't know, sweetie. I really don't. But everything's going to be fine now. It may not seem like it . . . but we're going to help you. No one's going to hurt you here. I swear."

And for whatever reason, this broken-no cracked man decided she was the perfect person to latch onto and sob on. And all she could do was hold him while the nurse and doctor that came scrambling up behind them prepared whatever they could to sedate him. She doubted he felt the needle bite his skin or registered that the drugs were forcing his eyes to close and his breathing to even out. All she knew was that even after he was out, the newest addition to Camarillo clung to her like she was his life line-the only thing he had.

And what truly broke her heart was the fact that she probably was.

* * *

_Nobody kill me. I swear it doesn't end like this . . ._


	2. You Come a Long Way Baby

_Okay, so I decide to just throw this in with the A Team category because everything that relates to my Gone in 60 Seconds is pretty much an AU for that anyway. You don't have to know who these people are because a lot will change or be explained. I've almost completely decided to make this Murdock/OC . . . . but if I change my mind I'll let everyone know. And no one hate me for having the team abandon poor Murdock just yet. All will be explained and revealed . . . okay, enough blathering. On with the show.

* * *

_

**You Come a Long Way Baby**

**_"NOOO!"_**

Murdock shot off the bed, glancing around the room in a panic until he remembered where he was. He was at Camarillo. He was in Long Beach . . . and he was completely alone.

He sighed, sliding back into the jersey sheets of his bed. At least he'd been given a private room, so no one else was being woken up by his night terrors. Except this time, instead of being in Desert Storm with his friends dying all around him, he was stuck in that damned room. And that bastard Kell was laughing as he danced with Face's dismembered head.

Murdock shook himself, forcing the image from his mind as he closed his eyes and tried to do what his new doctors had urged him to do. If he dealt with the torture and the loss, the pain and suffering and the betrayal, then one day he could reclaim his lost sanity. _Well, as much as he had anyway._

When he'd been dumped on the Camarillo doorstep seven months ago, he'd been worse than he'd ever been in his life-including immediately after his transfer to Mexico. But the people here were trying to help him. They truly wanted him to succeed and be as functional as he could be, not taped back together and tossed in a corner.

_Just like Chaosia had promised._

Murdock looked down at the charcoal sheets, picking at the hem as he tried to steer his thoughts away from the very woman that seemed to occupy them more often than not. Apparently, with his sanity becoming a more tangible thing he was actually beginning to notice things for what they were . . . and Chaosia was probably one of the most interesting paradoxes he'd ever bloody met.

He could tell from the way she moved and interacted with the patients-himself included-that she wasn't shy about actually being close to the "crazies". Her calloused hands and warm smiles made her an easy favorite and he never heard anyone complain about her treatment of them or having to talk to her. More often than not, he saw her having to take on extras because another doctor was being too narrow minded or idiotic to trust.

He'd asked her once, why she'd decide to do this back when his lucid moments were more spaced out. She'd laughed at him and mussed his hair, sea glass green eyes shining as she told him conspiratorially, _"Why insanity runs in my family, Mr. Murdock. And I don't think that a little insanity is a bad thing. As long as you follow the rules, you don't really run into any problems."_

He'd learned her mother and her aunt were both manic depressive schizophrenic, though too different degrees. While her mother had been able to control it with therapy alone her aunt had to be committed. Which had led to her Aunt's abuse and subsequent suicide years later. Murdock had listened in awe as Chaosia explained she'd always thought that if someone had handled her aunt better, taken more time and done more with her instead of medicating her and sending her back out into a very uncaring and biased world then maybe she would still be alive. And her favorite cousin would have had a mother while he was growing up.

A cousin, he'd later learned that had almost the same mental issues he did. Auditory and visual hallucinations, voices and the habit of pulling deeper into himself when reality became too much . . . on top of the manic depression and paranoid schizophrenia he inherited from his mother. But he hadn't let it stop him so far. He was, apparently, a stand-up comic now. And made damn good money getting to vocalize his issues and display his own brand of whit on stage.

All just other pieces of the Chaosia paradox that made her cross his addled brain more often than not. The fact he spent a good deal of time with her while she was at work didn't really dissuade his growing infatuation with the intern.

She usually played Uno with him and Michael on Wednesdays before she went to lunch, laughing and accusing both of them of cheating since they usually beat her. Actually, she was about the only other person the gentle giant that was Michael Sellers even remotely interacted with . . .

Murdock himself had won him over two weeks after his isolation period with his vast repertoire of impressions and voices. Earning him an almost constant shadow and loyal bodyguard. Only one person had tried to mess with him since Michael had laughed and nodded in his direction . . . and that person had been promptly shoved through the glass front of the late vending machine. Now, none of the others even glanced at him and it was honestly fine by him. In a way, Michael was like a replacement Bosco . . . if Bosco had had an abuse induced psychotic break and slaughtered his abusive parents in a fit of righteous self-protection and rage . . . But those were just small details.

He could practically hear Chaosia laughing as she scolded him in his mind.

"_Don't think about the others too much, goofy goober. You've got to do this by yourself . . . their ghosts can't hold you back from what you deserve."_

He groaned, shutting his eyes as he continued to play with the sheets.

She'd waltzed in here after he'd been cleared for visitors, outfitting his room with the new jersey sheets and black-and-charcoal pinstriped comforter set, claiming they would make him feel better to have something that was purely his and no one else's. The small metal die cast copters for him to assemble-all actual collectors additions and not toys which had shocked him- had been next a few days later and were now finished and displayed proudly on the shelves. A few of the odds-and-ends he'd collected from the strolls on the beach she and Ter took him and Michael on joined them. The metal dish she'd brought him was almost full of chunks of coral, shells and rock that he'd happened upon, his dogtags almost completely buried had to be his favorite thing, though. Probably because it was so oddly soothing. Chaosia and Weaver had handed it to him, and really nailed it on the head: with every piece of a new life he collected, be it just by wandering or design, he was letting go of his old one just a bit more. Even if it was grain by grain and piece by piece.

* * *

Murdock looked over; glancing at the digital display on the wall clock he'd been allowed after a month of good behavior and no suicide attempts as he pulled himself back into awareness. It seemed weird but it was a little luxury he'd never been allowed anywhere else . . . and he was sure that Chaos had a hand in pushing to let him get this one. It was almost five in the morning . . . he'd be getting up soon anyway.

He tossed the covers back, dragging himself out of bed before quickly making it. But not to regulation. If Chaos or Dr. Weaver caught him doing it they'd just untuck his corners and rumple it. He would always be a Ranger, a solider, but he didn't have to just be a solider anymore. He could be anything he wanted . . . within reason. Though Dr. Weaver had been overly indulgent of him impersonating John Wayne for three days. He'd been allowed to swagger and talk like the Duke, regaling the younger staff with the tales of cattle rustlers and Indian wars for the first time and delighting the older members and patients. He'd finally gotten bored and decided to be Murdock again . . . but he was planning on being Frank Sinatra for a few days and crooning to a few of the female nurses. 

_Face would surely love it if he saw it . . . Hannibal too._

Quickly gathering his caddy and a fresh change of heather gray lounge pants and one of the twenty graphic tees he'd been bestowed upon his admission, Murdock made his way to the showers. Maybe he'd even shave today . . . Naw. Better wait until a day they least suspect it.

* * *

Chaosia Guadimus was many things but gracious under fire was not among them. Too bad Sphinx's intern had had to learn that the hard way.

She glowered, practically flying down the snaky coastal road that led to Camarillo. She didn't know why but she just wanted to get as far away from the garage and the crew as possible . . . and her legal life seemed the best way to do it. If she'd had to put up with one more comment from that skinny little toothpick then she was going to fucking scream.

She sighed, never bothering to slow down as she took the 45 degree turn into the Camarillo campus. She had paperwork to help Weaver complete anyway . . . and maybe she could get Michael and Murdock to cheer her up. She slowed, pulling into her customary spot and killing the Chevelle's engine.

She knew that if Murdock continued to improve he would be released within the next month . . . something she was overly excited for. She'd literally been with him every step of the way, adopting the hapless Ranger as her own from the second he'd bawled and bled all over her good red sweater. Just the thought that he was ready to start reintegrating this quickly was amazing. And she wasn't so vain to think it was her doing in anyway. He wanted to be better. He wanted to be as sane as possible . . . though she secretly thought he would always be kind of like her and Topher. Not insane just . . . _eccentric._

She sighed again as she pulled her laptop bag out of the back seat, tossing the thing over her shoulder as her phone decided to ring just then. She fished it out of her pocket, looking perplexed at the unfamiliar number before flipping it open.

"Uh, Hello?"

Shallow breaths answered her for a few meager seconds before whoever disconnected the call. She stared at the phone, puzzled before shrugging. Oh well, she had some paperwork to file, people to see . . . and possibly a hand of Uno to win.

* * *

Hours later, Faceman Peck watched from a shadowed spot on the patio as Murdock slapped a card down on the table, laughing and pointing at the scowling blonde woman. She, to her credit, just rolled her eyes before flipping her blonde curls over her shoulder and pushing the huge tortoise shell glasses up her nose. When Murdock was done doing his victory dance, she gathered the cards, shuffling quickly as she spoke to him in what Face thought to be a nice way. Movement beside him alerted him to Hannibal's presence before he turned to see him. Apparent, his CO was just as surprised by the turn around in their friend as he was . . .

"Well, would you look at that . . . I guess it worked out okay after all . . ."

He pulled a long draught from his cigar, watching the scene before them unfold. Murdock, dressed in gray lounge pants and a dark blue tee shirt with "Excuse Me While I Kiss the Sky" in faded blue text, watched the girl deal quickly before laying down as many cards as he could before her. She rolled her eyes, swatting his hands away with one hand as she adjusted her dark taupe cardigan with the other. Her eyes shone with mirth and agitation, not aggravation and disdain as she scolded him and laid her own cards down.

"And she would be, Lt?"

Face leaned against the rail, never taking his eyes off of his friend. He hadn't ever seen Murdock seem so free without being behind the helm of a chopper . . . . or terrifying B.A.

"Her name is Chaosia Ripley Guadimus. She's a recent graduate from the University of California's Long Beach chapter, though she's apparently doing some additional courses while she's interning here. Far as I can tell from the records I glanced at earlier today, she's been his secondary therapist since the night we left him here. She's recommended him for release, Boss."

Hannibal stopped, looking down at Face in shock.

"Release? You mean to another facility, correct?"

Face shook his head, crossing his arms.

"Sir, no sir. I mean period. They've made progress with him we never dreamed anyone could do, Hannibal. I've been watching him for weeks and the only thing I've seen are nightmares. No talking in voices other than as jokes. No calling invisible dogs or arguing with invisible people. No escape attempts. Hell, he seems more normal than us now."

Hannibal nodded, settling back against the railing beside the XO as he watched his pilot. He'd always known Murdock was extremely intelligent. Hell, he spoke and read more languages than most people even heard . . . and he was the best damn pilot he'd ever had the pleasure of serving with. Bar none. So it shouldn't be a surprise for him to have made such progress in a supportive environment . . . but part of Hannibal had always wondered just how much of Murdock's insanity was legitimate and how much was a by product of the stress and a need for freedom.

He sighed, glancing over at Face. At least now that Face knew he was doing well he would start to feel a little better about what had happened. They had hated the fact of abandoning him . . . but he wouldn't have survived if they hadn't. And now that he was well, truly well, they could collect him if it was what he wanted.

"So when does he go free, Faceman?"

Face turned, flashing the grin that kept them out of trouble more often than not.

"In a little less than three weeks, Bossman. After that, we get our lunatic back."

Hannibal nodded, grinning with his cigar clinched in his teeth.

"Bet B.A.'s gonna be thrilled."

Face laughed, nodding because they both knew how far from the truth that statement really was.

"So, who's gonna tell him?"

Both waited a split second before turning to the other, saying, "You are" in unison.


	3. New Life, New Job

**New Life, New Job**

Chaosia watched with baited breath as Murdock looked over his release papers. He wasn't as thrilled with his impending release as Doctor Weaver had thought he should be . . . but he definitely wasn't as despondent as she had initially feared. She slowly let herself breathe as his moss colored eyes flitted over the material and legalities before him, obviously comprehending what they were proposing. Finally, he looked up at her in shock, mouth slightly open as he just stared at her and Weaver.

"This is bat shit crazy. You guys actually _**believe**_ this will work? You're crazier than I am."

Doctor Weaver chuckled, pulling one of the stainless steel pens from his lab coat pocket and holding it across the table for Murdock to take.

"That will be quite possibly be true . . . after you sign those papers, Mr. Murdock. Legally anyway."

He sighed, laying the papers down and resting his forehead in his hands as he stared at them. His sandy hair fell between his fingers, still framing his face and shadowing his eyes, moving with him as he shook his head in continued disbelief.

"I still can't- I mean . . . Is this some sort of trick?"

Chaosia sighed, reaching across patting his arm as he turned and looked at her fully. She could see the hope mingled with the severe disbelief. Even now there was so much good and innocence in Murdock that it made no sense to her or Weaver why someone hadn't tried to help him before . . ._ especially_ the Army.

"There's no trick H.M. I swear. We've talked to the Department of Defense. Your . . . mental status-which we all know wasn't as bad as they wanted to believe but that actually worked in your favor here-prevents you from being held to the same level of accountability as your other . . . _friends_. Meaning that even though you sign this piece of paper today, they cannot prosecute you for anything you did while you were-"

"_**Crazy?"**_

Doctor Weaver chuckled dryly, shaking his head at Murdock's exasperation.

"No Murdock, temporarily insane. You were _never_ crazy. Your sheer intelligence and the episodes of lucidity prove as much. As it stands, I believe that you suffered from a trauma induced break. Not a breakdown. Your natural affinity for a younger outlook and to block or deprioritize severe events was a defense mechanism. As I stated in the report to the D.O.D.-and Chaosia's own research and records support this- this was the _only_ thing that prevented you from going crazy during both bouts of captivity and the severe amounts of stress you were put under during your tenure with the Alpha unit. Which you were reinstated to _**before **_you were cleared for active duty, treatment and discharge to the Mexican facility notwithstanding, making any action you undertook_** out**_ of your conscious control. And the **direct** result of the Army's negligence and mistreatment of you."

Murdock leaned back, hands falling to his lap as he stared at the doctors in front of him as what they were saying sunk in. Chaosia smiled, picking up where Weaver left off.

"Pretty much, they're over the barrel so they're willing to deal. Deputy Director Kelly has offered you a _full_ honorable discharge complete with you as both a veteran and a Purple Heart recipient. Your records will be sealed and no one will be able to access the fact that you were_ ever_ treated for any form of mental instability. And, per the new GI Bill, you're entitled to a slew of benefits and incentives."

Murdock nodded, the life starting to seep back into his eyes as he turned and looked at her again.

"Will . . . I be able to fly again?"

Weaver laughed, sinking back into his own chair as Chaosia rolled her eyes. That meant she had just won a thousand dollars of the old bastard and he was laughing. At least he wasn't a sore loser.

"I guess Chaosia was right to include that into her argument with Captain Sosa."

Murdock's eyes flashed as he gripped the table. He apparently liked her just about as much as her father had.

"_El Diablo_? What's she got to do with any of this?"

Chaosia and Weaver both started laughing in earnest then, Weaver actually having to retrieve his inhaler to alleviate his wheezing. After they'd quieted, Chaosia wiped her eyes as Weaver handed Murdock the pen, though this time he actually took it.

"Not much at all, Mr. Murdock . . . though from what the former Ambassador was telling us this morning when he dropped these off that is a most apt description. Apparently she was extremely insistent on the fact that you were faking your psychosis and would only use this pardon as a way to aid the other fugitives."

Chaosia grumbled, shifting in her seat. If that woman so much as even thought of fucking this up she'd have her disappear permanently. Most of her contacts these days were of the legal variety, save Otto and the crew, but she could still contact someone to get down and dirty if she had to. Besides, her dad would love the idea of it after all of the trouble she'd given him when he'd backed her and Weaver's proposal. Being a military advisor on top of his businesses really _did_ help when she needed pull for stuff like this with the Vets. And her dear ol' Dad had been _all __**too**__ happy_ to help the man who had barrel rolled the infamous General Stockwell in a helicopter in Saudi just to see if the man would puke.

"Former Ambassador? Why would he help me?"

Weaver chuckled, taking the now signed forms and signing them himself before passing them to Chaosia.

"Because the former Ambassador is controlled by his very _dedicated_ daughter . . . who just happens to be my talented intern and your secondary therapist. Though now that these are signed I do have to ask you Chaos. How did you get him to push for the reinstatement of the flying rights and license?"

She smirked; signing her name neatly beside Murdock's scrawling signature and Weaver's chicken scratch.

"I just mentioned that I would never cook for him again if he didn't. Dad and Mikhail are pretty much ruled by their guts you know."

Murdock laughed, looking at her as she stood, stretching. For some reason, the look behind those green eyes had her wanting to preen and blush at the same time. What in the hell was wrong with her?

"So what exactly do you cook? Because I've probably got a few recipes they would love . . . as long you don't use too much secret sauce . . ."

* * *

Across town, B. A. Baracus walked into the main office of Halliwell Restoration. He had heard from one of the guys down at the docks that this place was looking for a new mechanic and restorer . . . and wasn't too picky about having all of the proper documentation if you were good enough.

He sighed, running his hand over the new growth on the top of his head. He hated that he had to let it all grow back . . . but the Mohawk was too recognizable for Long Beach. If they ever got out of here then he would be able to cut it back . . . but for now he could deal with the short cropped cut. At least he didn't have the damned afro again.

He tugged at the dark burgundy thermal shirt, pulling the white wife beater beneath it straight so the material would smooth out. His dark jeans weren't too baggy and he was wearing the better pair of work boots he'd managed to keep Face from tossing. All-in-all, he looked presentable . . . but he hoped it would be enough. He reached up, tucking his dogtags into the shirts. No need in flashing those around if he didn't have to . . . never knew who could spot them and out him.

He looked around, spotting an older man, about ten years Hannibal's senior, coming out of the main work area, wiping his glasses on a shop towel as he muttered to himself.

Well, it was now or never . . .

"Excuse me? Sir? There anyone I can talk to that's in charge?"

The man stopped, obviously startled by him as he jumped a bit before shaking himself and smiling. For some reason, that smile made B.A. feel at ease and he felt the tension start to leak from his shoulders and back.

"Well now son, that would be me. Name's Otto. What can I help you with?"

B.A. stepped forward slowly, making sure to move as loudly as he could and to not appear threatening. He didn't want to give the guy a heart attack . . . he seemed okay.

"I was actually wantin' to talk to someone about a job, sir. I just moved here and I heard you guys needed a mechanic."

Otto nodded, stepping around him to grab a glass bottled Coke from a small freezer behind the counter. He popped the top, drinking half before reaching in and handing B.A. another one.

"Boy, you must be a Godsend because I was just about to murder my mouthiest restorer. What all can you do, son? And what do I need to call you?"

B.A. smiled, relaxing the rest of the way as he followed Otto into his office.

"I can work on just about anything with a motor, Sir. And my name is Bosco Lang . . . but all of my friends call me B.A."

Otto smiled, clinking his bottle to B.A.'s before a loud crash and shouts poured in the office through the still open doors. He groaned, turning to look at B.A. carefully before knocking back the rest of the soda and extending his hand.

"Well, like I said before, I'm Otto Halliwell . . . when do you want to start?"

* * *

_New one coming up pretty quickly . . ._


	4. New Arrangements and Fresh Faces

_Thanks for the reviews and faves everybody. I really appreciate it. Here's a new chapter to celebrate! Yay!_

* * *

**New Arrangements and Fresh Faces**

Atley Jackson watched with a critical eye as Chaosia waltzed into the garage, talking animatedly on her phone and completely ignoring the fact that she'd just walked by Sphinx and not even nodded to him. Which had the stoic man looking after her dumbfounded . . . and he wasn't the only one. It was no big secret that Chaos went above and beyond the call to make everyone feel welcomed and a part of her attention in some way. Hell, in his opinion it probably made her a damned good head shrinker . . . But he knew she_ always_ went out of her way to speak to Sphinx. She had for the past _three years_. Something was up . . . and he wanted to know what.

He pushed away from the wall, slowly making his way to the still chattering girl as she slipped into the paint dock. As he got closer, he could hear some pieces of her conversation.

"No, HM. Yes, I'm sure it's fine. Look, let me stop in here and spend some time with my goober of a brother and the idiot posse and I'll come by. What? No, of course I don't mind. Hey, we'll go grab some stuff and cook . . . just no secret sauce okay. I really don't want to experience any symptoms remotely similar to Bell's palsy . . . Yes, even if it'll make it the best damned steak I've ever had. Look, let me go find Khail. I'll see you later. Bye."

She turned, tucking the phone in her pocket and nearly jumped out of her skin when she spotted him. Her hand flew to her chest as she looked at him with wide eyes.

"_**JESUS!**_ Atley you scared me half to death! What're you doing creeping around in the shadows silent as the grave? Isn't that Sphinx's job?"

Atley chuckled, moving to lean on one of the work benches. Something was different about her . . . Her hair was down and, for once not a wild mass of curl but styled in big loose curls with her bangs pushed away from her face. She had on light makeup and her cheeks were flushed, though from the cosmetics or the start he'd just given her he didn't really know. Her eyes were what got him though. She had rimmed her unusually colored eyes with shimmering charcoal shadow and coated her sooty lashes in mascara, making them seem even fuller than normal. That coupled with the glossy nude lips made her seem . . . more grownup somehow. He knew she was Kip's age but seeing her like this was . . . odd. She rarely wore makeup, even to work . . . Hell, the last time she'd worn makeup was when . . .

Atley felt his eyes widen as she blushed under his scrutiny, smoothing the hem of the white shirt she had on. He shook himself, noticing just how she was dressed. The shirt fit her like a second skin with a modest boat neck, showing off far more than he or her brother were comfortable with without being revealing. She was completely covered and he still wanted to throw a blanket over her!

The cropped brown leather jacket was . . . odd, falling just to the dip of her waist with the mandarin styled collar popped, various patches and stitching showing off different logos. Her distressed jeans were dark, tucked securely into the top of leather riding boots with numerous brass buttons down the sides and buckles at the tops. A pair of amber lensed aviator glasses perched in her curls completed the look . . . as well as the small silver necklace adorned with the tiny rhinestone-encrusted airplane, compass, and globe style charm.

Where in the world had she been? Or, _more to the point_, where was she going?

"Decided to give the big guy a break and do the dirty work for the day. You look . . . _nice_, Chaos. Going somewhere special?"

Her blush intensified as she glared at him, pushing a wayward curl behind her ear before turning to look for her bother as she answered him.

"I'm helping a new friend move into his apartment . . . why? Gonna rat me out?"

Atley shrugged, turning to see Sphinx slip into the room at the same time that Mikhail and the new restorer came busting through the other door laughing. Atley shook his head at Sphinx, wondering why he'd even bothered following Chaos. Maybe he had actually pulled his head away from his intern long enough to see that the normally sweet girl was giving him the cold shoulder . . . and dressed better than any of them had ever seen her . . . to help someone move.

He smirked, waving at Mikhail as he tugged on Chaosia's hair and ragged her about her clothes. Sphinx disregarded him, stepping forward and hanging on the edge of the trio, still unnoticed by the siblings or their newest addition as Atley settled in to watch the show unfold.

_This was going to be so much fun . . . _

* * *

Chaosia smacked her brother, rolling her eyes as she turned to meet his friend. The man was tall, muscular and well built without being overly bulky. His hair was cropped short, curling tightly and extending into the oddly shaped sideburns. And while his sheer size should've been off setting, his eyes put her at ease. He had warm hazel eyes that seemed to convey a much unexpected intelligence . . . as well as good dose of mischief. _No wonder her bother and the rest of his crew had taken to him so well . . ._

"Hi. I'm Chaosia Guadimus . . . this idiot's sister. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He smiled at her, shaking her hand and allowing her the opportunity to see his tattooed knuckles. The word Pity was inked into the top of his hand, causing her to raise a brow. What an odd tattoo to get . . .

"I'm Bosco Lang, ma'am. And the pleasure is all mine. Most people just call me BA though . . . and he's nowhere _near _as bad as some of the fools I know."

She laughed; dropping his hand as she playfully shoved her now scowling brother. Mikhail's dark brown hair was spiked in all directions and he definitely needed to shave the five o'clock shadow. And wash the grease off . . . but he was still her brother . . . no matter how badly she needed to re-educate him on grooming and self-presentation. Maybe she could start with small hints again . . .

"Just give him time. And don't let his bad hygiene rub off on you though. I swear he started infecting Kip and Tumbler from day one."

BA laughed, apparently taking as much joy from her brother's blush as she did.

"I'll try ma'am."

Mikhail grumbled, sending her a dark glare as he crossed his arms.

"Why are you here, oh chaotic one? Forget to put oil in your Chevelle again?"

Chaosia kicked him in the shin, crossing her own arms and turning to face BA completely, directing her answer to him. The dark restorer chuckled good naturedly as Mikhail rubbed his abuse limb.

"I just came by to make sure you were coming by to help me with the Aston Saturday. And warn you I'm going to have company."

"_**Company?"**_

All heads turned to Sphinx as he stepped forward and joined the conversation. Chaosia looked at him in shock, nodding as Mikhail and Atley exchanged a look. BA seemed to be taking in every detail about the normally stoic fixture of the garage . . . like he was evaluating a threat. If he only knew . . .

"Yeah. I invited my friend to come and help . . . well-more hangout than anything. He's new to Long Beach and-"

Atley interrupted her, asking the question on at least three of their brains and causing Chaosia to have to bite her tongue to not curse as she felt her cheeks flush. She hated it when Atley and Sphinx were around each other. They both picked up on too much (though Sphinx could be willfully obtuse about emotional matters- her enduring attraction to him and his newly established relationship despite of the fact being a prime example) and seemed to feed off each other when in close quarters. She needed to tread lightly . . .

"He? He who, Chaos?"

She sniffed, flipping her curls over her shoulder as she eyed him carefully and weighed the situation. Atley _probably_ wouldn't care, he was just nosey . . . and Sphinx was _**probably**_ just bored. But Mikhail could get the wrong idea about Murdock very quickly and things would go bad. Very bad. Besides . . . she'd already decided that no one needed to know about Murdock's past. If they coddled him or acted oddly around him it would undo everything he'd worked so hard to accomplish. And he _**definitely**_ deserved this second chance at normalcy. So she stuck to what her and her father had discussed telling everyone else, giving Murdock a solid alibi and the chance to start off on the right foot with _most_ new people he'd encounter.

"A pilot I met while I was visiting Bastian on base with Daddy. Apparently he was there as some sort of advisor and he and Dad are familiar. We got introduced and he's moving into the area. So Dad asked me to be friendly and lend a hand."

Mikhail laughed, pulling her into a hug. _Which meant her white lie had worked_.

"Poor Chaos. Pops sure loves to pawn off people on you, doesn't he? Let me guess: the guys probably wet behind the ears and terrified so Dad wants you to be nice and try not to scar him for life, right?"

Chaos bristled, not knowing why hearing her brother's casual dismissal of Murdock was so . . . infuriating. But it was and she was quickly losing her temper.

"No, goober. He's actually in his late thirties and a damn good pilot. He and Dad know each other from the Gulf . . . and he is _far _from wet behind the ears. I'm actually going to see if he'll start teaching me to fly . . . eventually."

Mikhail paled as Atley laughed . . . and Chaos had to work really hard to not notice the dark look that settled on Sphinx's face. So hard, she missed the mixed look that crossed BA's.

* * *

Murdock stood in the living room of his new apartment and had to keep himself from going into another full blown panic attack. It had been a long time since he'd had space that was purely his that wasn't a padded cell or a canvas tent . . . so long that he had no clue how he was going to make this place functional.

His earlier discussion with Chaosia's father was still playing in the back of his mind, giving him something to focus on other than the stark, blank white walls that were closing in on him a little more with each passing second.

Edward Prometheus Guadimus was familiar to him it turned out. He had been a big shot with the war front in the Gulf and had been the main wrangler for Stockwell . . . even though his dual citizenship prevented him from full service for the States. The man had made an impression, however, and he knew now just who Chaosia reminded him off so heavily. She was her father's daughter. All guts and grit and shocking intelligence behind subtly and sarcasm. But she had this . . . sweet side mixed in that left him stumped . . .

He shook himself, sliding down the wall onto the hardwood floors to think.

Guadimus had told him what to tell anybody he met. He was a pilot, freshly off tour and relocating to Long Beach. He and Guadimus had known each other and Chaosia was helping him settle as a favor to her old man . . . not out of professional courtesy or interest. If anybody recognized him, he was to call Guadimus immediately and it would be dealt with . . . otherwise he was going to be left in peace . . . with over $5000 of benefits coming in a month to help "cushion" his past suffering.

Murdock had no clue how the man had pulled it off, but Face definitely needed to be taking lessons from Chaosia's father. The man was the _**king**_ of cons . . . which was further proved by the retro check-stub sitting on his new countertop. He hadn't looked at it too closely after the initial shock. But the card in his back pocket accessed the account that the funds had been deposited into. A legal account that was in his name . . . and not being monitored by anyone other than Guadimus himself.

So far, they'd avoided any talk of the team and Murdock was thankful. He might think of them often but he wasn't ready to talk about them to anyone but Weaver and Chaos just yet. Plus, he'd seen the picture of Guadimus and Hannibal that Chaosia had brought him. Guadimus wasn't a rat. He might do everything legally, but he had integrity. _He was crook with honor_.

A knock on the door jerked him out of his thoughts and brought him to his feet. When he reached the door, he wasn't shocked to see Chaosia on the other side.

As she made her way in, he had to admit it. She looked so much better in jeans and tee shirts than scrubs and suits it was almost a crime to see her any other way. She tossed her jacket on the bar, pulling her hair back into a ponytail before turning and smiling at him.

"So . . . ready to go get some furniture? Or are we cooking first?"

Murdock shook himself, nodding as he messed with his own tee shirt. The Sky Captain of Tomorrow shirt and jeans had been Chaosia's idea of a joke . . . but he knew it had also been to make him feel better about leaving the asylum earlier today. She'd really put a lot of effort into making him feel whole.

"Uh, I guess furniture. Where do you go to get it? I always let Facey do all of this . . ."

* * *

Chaosia laughed, rolling her eyes as she surveyed his apartment. He was so nervous and anxious that she really didn't want to force him into a social setting just yet . . . but he needed furniture. And it was still early enough that they might be able to get it delivered today. If not, he was sleeping on her couch and they would move him tomorrow. She was technically on break this week and the only things she had planned were lunch on Wednesday with Atley and Uno with Michael that night . . . both of which she'd be dragging Murdock to.

The sooner Atley and the others met him the better. It made it seem less like she was hiding him and more like what they'd planned. He needed outside influence and connection other than just her. And while the shop wasn't a great choice for a legal connection, she knew they wouldn't judge him.

"We'll go look at some of the smaller shops near the Port then we'll grab the stuff to cook and head back to my apartment. That way if they can't get your stuff here today then you don't have to sleep on the floor."

Murdock stiffened and she knew she was in for a fight. If she'd learned anything from the man, it was that he was stubborn. Sane or not.

"I'll be fine sleeping here, Chaos. 'Sides, don't you think it'll be weird having a former _fruitcake_ in your house? What've I crack again, huh? Not too_** smart**_, Doc."

She rolled her eyes, giving him a deadpan look.

"**Seriously,** Murdock. Even crazy you were more _sane _than I am on a day-to-day basis. _Besides,_ I keep a loaded double-action Smith & Wesson 500 .50-cal. Magnum in my apartment. I doubt even your crazy ass could handle two of those slugs to the chest and head."

Murdock stopped, clearly shocked.

"_You've_ got a S&W 500? _**Why**_?"

She shrugged, looking back into his kitchen to glance at the pantry. _They'd need to get him groceries and dishes too . . ._

"I wanted it. I always loved _Dirty Harry_. I even had a Smith & Wesson 29 .44-cal. So when this one came out a few years ago, I order one and renewed my license. Besides, every chick needs hand cannon once in their life. So, furniture, groceries then my apartment."

Murdock sighed, nodding before grabbing his own coat and the weathered red Airborne cap he loved.

"Yes ma'am. Where is your apartment anyway?"

She laughed, pointing to his patio.

"Just down the fire escape, actually. Dad thought you'd do better with someone familiar close . . . which means he just wants to make my brother have kittens."

* * *

Murdock groaned, knowing now that this was a bad idea. He should've refused to sign and stayed at Camarillo.

Because there was no way he was going to stay sane living a floor above her.

Not with the way she kept monopolizing his brain as it was. He gave it two weeks before he was back in the padded room . . . because there was no way that Chaosia was going to ever think of him the way he was sure he was beginning to think of her . . . 

_He was better off crazy._


	5. Making Home

_Okay, this is sort of a filler to get to the point I'm being led to. No body hurt me._

_

* * *

_

**Making Home**

As Chaosia had drug him through as many small furniture stores as possible, helping him pick out things that felt right for him . . . Murdock started to realize that he really did have different tastes than his best friend and teammates. Face would've been all over the modern furniture, cooing at the sleek lines and smooth curves while Hannibal would've gone straight for whatever appeared the most comfortable. Murdock refused to even_ try_ to imagine what BA would go for, knowing it would be close to the latest and greatest electronic gizmo.

He shook his head. At first, he'd been lured to the simple and relatively bland . . . something Chaosia had rolled her eyes at and put a stop to quickly. When he'd argued that he had no clue what to get, she'd smiled at him and squeezed his hand.

"You've been surrounded by nothing but the bland and controllable for years. From the Army to the wards, Murdock. This isn't either. Try and make this _feel_ like home . . . "

So, with that thought in mind, he started looking. He'd already spent an extra week at the asylum-strictly as a guest thank God- and he _wanted_ to be _**out**_. The closer to actually leaving for good, the more he'd started to want it. The second Chaosia's father had called and said that he'd located a suitable apartment for him; he'd been ready to scale the damn walls. Because this time, there would be no break outs by Face or Hannibal. This time, he didn't have to relish every second on the outside then get ready to go back in his box . . . When he walked out the doors of Camarillo today, it had been _**permanent**_.

_He hoped anyway._

And, according to Chaos, the first step of permanent was making his new home . . ._** Home**_.

But as he kept looking, he started to notice his appreciation for the traditional pieces. Little details that reminded him of his grandparents and the last real home he'd had that had been stationary. Then he'd started grabbing these little bits of other things to throw in, things that he knew wouldn't really appeal to anybody else but him. Things that could make it closer to home.

Oh sure, he'd been at home with the guys but they'd always been moving, even before Lynch the first and Morrison. And at the time, he'd loved it. It was freedom. But now . . . now he actually wanted to stay in one place.

_Just as long as he got to visit the clouds, that is._

Now, almost three hours later, his entire apartment, apparently, was going to be in varying tones of browns and grays with blue thrown in ever-so-often. Chaosia had even helped him find a rather nice wooden bookcase to display the planes he'd built and the other trinkets he was sure to happen upon. He always had a bad habit of just picking things up and tossing them together.

And while the sales clerk had looked at him oddly for everything he'd chosen, Chaosia had been a constant encouragement.

He snorted.

_More like a damned catalyst._

She'd told him that (after he let himself) he was doing well, surrounding himself with things that would make him comfortable without sacrificing functionality or his taste. A taste she had said was called _eclectic._ He'd shrugged and continued to look, picking the living room furniture, bedroom suite and barstools for his bar. When he'd told Chaos he didn't really want a dining room table, she'd shrugged and suggested making that area an off-shoot of the living room. Which had led to them picking out the bookcase and matching desk. And another armchair and small table to go in the opposite corner.

He sighed, sitting down on the cognac colored leather sofa he'd just purchased and glanced over at Chaosia out of the corner of his eye. She was talking animatedly with the sales rep, laughing and giving directions like she did it every day while keeping a safe distance between herself and the hopeless flirt. If he hadn't know any better, he would've sworn that the boy was a close relative of Face . . . especially with the way he kept smiling and trying to get just a little closer. But Chaosia was always a step ahead, moving slightly to maintain her distance.

Murdock sighed, shaking his head. He would never admit it aloud but watching her with this guy was almost as bad as Kell's torture. He knew he was starting to view her differently (just how much differently he hadn't figured out quite yet) but he_** knew**_ he was **protective** of her. _And the kid doing his best octopus impression was about to lose a few arms if he didn't stop. _

Finally, Chaosia shook the guy's hand and walked back towards him, making Murdock feel a good bit better with every step. When she was close enough, she sat on the overstuffed arm chair that went with his couch, kicking her booted feet up on the matching ottoman with a devious little smirk.

Murdock gulped, knowing instinctively that whatever she was about to say was _**not**_ going to end well for him.

"So, you've got furniture now . . . let's go get you some more clothes and we'll swing by the grocer before heading back to the apartment. _Junior_ over there said they'll have your stuff to you first thing tomorrow morning . . . which brings up another question. Do you want to paint before it gets there?"

He stopped, looking at her like she was crazy.

"Paint? Why would I _paint?"_

She shrugged, settling deeper into the chair and looking down at her hands, inspecting the diamond cocktail ring that he was beginning to believe was attached to her.

"I figured maybe you've seen enough white walls to last you a life time . . . if we go now I can get my brother and his friends to help us tonight. They owe me some community service hours anyway. What better way to collect than to make them paint while we eat?"

Murdock blinked.

_Just who in the hell was this girl? _

This wasn't the sweet little therapist that had been pushing and prodding him to recovery . . . this was a completely _different _person sitting here talking to him. From the glint in her eye to the wicked little grin still spread across her lips, this girl _**wasn't**_ the Chaosia he'd come to know. She_ was_ different.

And for the life of him, he couldn't make that fact scare him the way he knew it should. If anything, this newfound whatever . . ._** enticing**_ . . . far too enticing.

He felt himself nod dumbly before he could stop the reaction, which only made her giggle and stand. Grabbing his hand, she led him out of the store and towards her Chevelle. He knew he was marching to the proverbial firing squad and for the life of him he didn't really care.

_The docs were wrong, he was __**still **__crazy. _

This absolutely proved it.

* * *

BA drove the Hum Vee back to the house, occasionally flipping through the stations as he made his way to their new home. Face had managed to scam them a pretty nice place this time. And it seemed to be permanent. Two months after they'd left Murdock, they'd found the house close to Camarillo and set up shop, not wanting to be too far away if the crazy fool escaped. Which they'd all been expecting.

So it went without saying that they'd been shocked to have to go keep tabs on him . . . and even more shocked at what Face had found.

The fool was doing better. _And not just physically_.

The docs there had been good to him, going so far as to push for his release and a waiver for his time with the team. Which meant that as of 9:00 am this morning, Murdock was certifiably sane and had a clean record . . . unlike the rest of them. And while Face and Hannibal hadn't really given thought to what that meant, he had. It meant that Murdock could make a new life for himself . . . and that if they ever got caught again that he'd go to jail just like the rest of them.

BA sighed, pulling to a stop at a light and running a hand over his hated hair.

He knew they should just leave him alone and let him move on with a new life but damn if he didn't miss the fool and his antics. Hell, three months before he'd gone to work with Otto, he'd been tempted to stroll into Camarillo and offer to let Murdock fly him anywhere . . . in return for just coming back. He'd very quickly rethought that offer but it was the _initial_ thought that counted, right?

Face would be home when he got there and hopefully they could go and just check up on their former lunatic . . . And maybe he could convince him to make his coconut curry tapenade and toast points.

That would be great.

His phone rang, causing him to have to dig into his jeans to find it. When he finally secured the damned thing, he answered, slightly agitated.

"What?"

"_Uh, BA? Is this a bad time man? If it is I can totally call back . . ."_

BA took a deep breath. It was Mikhail . . .

"No man, I just dropped the damn phone. Thing's too damned small . . ."

Mikhail's laughter flowed through the speaker and BA found himself smiling despite his sour mood. Mikhail Shaw was one of those people who was _almost always_ happy. Not crazy or off the wall, just honestly content with his place in the world. He loved working with Otto and his friends, his sister was close enough he could keep an eye on her and he had a sense of purpose that even BA knew _Hannibal _would be envious of. Which is one of the reasons BA had taken to spending so much time there since he'd been hired. That and Tumbler, one of the other restorers, was a hell of a boxer. They'd decided to meet and spar twice a week and he was going to start going out with them on Friday night to the Anchor bar.

"_I know, right? I swear mine's the size of damned dime. Look, you busy tonight?"_

BA stopped, considering his plans to check in on Murdock . . . but decided it could wait until after whatever Mikhail had planned. Probably be better to find the fool after the sun went down anyway.

"Nah man, just heading home. Why? Needin' help with something?"

A nervous chuckle me this ears, making him wonder just what Mikhail needed. What would put him on edge like this?

"Actually man I do. Remember that guy Chaos was going on about? Well, it seems that she's decided to call in the favor me and the guys owe her in the form of making us paint. The guy's apartment is below hers so she's made us a deal. If we paint his place while she cooks, she'll feed anyone who comes to help. So, you want to slap some paint on a little patch of wall and eat some of the best food in the world?"

BA's stomach gurgled, giving him its vote. He shrugged. What the hell, why not. He'd help.

"Sure man. Give me directions and I'll meet you guys there . . . Is the guy going to help us paint?"

"_No clue man. From what Chaos tells me he's actually really shy and kind of awkward at first. But once he gets going he's a hoot. She's seems to like him okay but with Chaos that's not much. She'd like a damn rattlesnake if it'd smile at her . . ."_

BA chuckled. He'd seen just how friendly Khail's kid sister was. She had talked and smiled her way to getting even Atley and Sphinx talking-something he himself hadn't really accomplished yet.

Oh Atley had been cordial but the massive man known only as the Sphinx hadn't said a word to him yet. Mikhail had told him that it was just how the guy was but he knew there was something . . . _deadly_ about the man. But even he'd perked when the little honey blonde had strolled into the garage, all smiles and warmth.

He didn't mind helping the girl out, especially since it would involve a meal. Maybe she was as good of a cook as Murdock was . . . now wouldn't that be awesome.

* * *

Kip Raines was many things, but practical and shy weren't among them.

Which is why it was so odd for him to not automatically start talking as soon as he'd strolled into Chaosia's apartment. He'd opened his mouth to speak, to razz Chaos about being such a bleeding heart and a slave driver at the same time when he'd spotted the girl's newest friend sitting awkwardly on her couch, flipping through one of her sketchbooks as music played from the stereo. Apparently the man and Chaos had the same taste . . . because Louis Armstrong and Billie Holliday were singing softly as he looked over the charcoal and graphite images before him.

_**This** was the guy her dad had her helping?_

Tumbler and Mirror ambled in behind him, jarring him out of his shock and catching the man's attention at once.

He stood, smoothing the faded Sky Captain of Tomorrow tee shirt as he smiled nervously at them, nodding.

"Howdy boys, ya'll friends of Chaosia?"

Kip nodded, momentarily culture shocked by the southern drawl and the odd voice before he smiled and stepped further in so Toby and Freb could get in. He knew that Mikhail and BA would get here soon and then they could get this painting party started and over with . . . _and move on to the food._

"Yeah. I'm Kip Raines and this is Tumbler." He pointed to Tumbler who nodded, eying the shirt with interest before smirking and waving. Kip rolled his eyes, continuing. "The little homie with the shades is Mirror. And yes, he _**is**_ a ghetto-fabulous smurf. The other two are Toby and Freb . . . So . . . We're painting your place, right?"

The man nodded, stepping closer and extending his hand, shaking Kip's firmly as he introduced himself.

"Yeah . . . sorry about the short notice. I, uh, just got here a little bit ago. I'm HM Murdock. Nice to meet you fellas."

Tumbler stepped, closer pointing to the shirt.

"I love that movie. It was awesome!"

Toby snorted, moving around them and sitting on Chaosia's white couch, pulling out his ever-present laptop and starting it up.

"You like anything that has to do with planes, Tumbler. You think because you've conquered every type of land vehicle you've gotta move on to the sky."

Tumbler smirked lopsidedly as he shrugged, turning to look at Murdock as Freb went to sit beside Toby on the couch.

"And that's a sin **_why_**?"

Mirror shook his head, adjusting his sunglasses as he reached out and shook Murdock's hand.

"Because the day they let your crazy ass fly a plane is the day** I** officially go underground for good. Nowhere would be safe, right Rainey boy?"

Kip nodded, shuddering as he thought of Tumbler trying to fly. The whole boating incident last year had taught them that while Tumbler could drive anything with wheels and most things without . . . a speedboat was not among them. They'd been stranded until Mikhail and Chaos had come to get them with Memphis and Atley, the latter two laughing the whole way home.

Murdock however, just laughed and clapped Tumbler on the shoulder. Suddenly seeming so much more at ease with them and the conversation.

"Well, I fly all the time and I'm about as crazy as they come. Just ask Chaosia . . ."

"You're _**not**_ crazy, HM. Insane yes. Crazy no. Hey guys. Where's Khail?"

Kip shrugged, looking over to see Ripley emerging from her laundry room. She was carrying an overflowing basket of clothes, balancing the wicker basket on her hip as she made her way through her kitchen and to her living room. Her hair was up in a ponytail and her face was scrubbed clean of any makeup, allowing her freckles to shine. Her plain white tee shirt and rolled skinny jeans made her seem as at home as she ever was. But the way she kept glancing between them and her guest made his brow raise. _Why was she nervous?_

She sat the basket down on the coffee table, reaching out to hug Kip before Tumbler pulled her into a bear huge, twirling her as she laughed and squealed.

"Tumbler, you _**ass**_! Put me down! I'm not a damn rag doll."

Tumbler set her on her feet, looping his arm over her shoulder as Mirror reached out and pulled her ponytail. Kip shook his head. They always did this, aggravate her until she hit them and then acted hurt so she'd cook.

"Aw, _c'mon_ Chaos. You_ know_ we love you."

She humphed, turning her face away from them as she rolled her eyes.

"Love my cooking and my TV you mean."

Mirror nodded, looking to the 52" flat screen she'd bought with the overflow from her last set of boosts. They really _did_ love the TV. And her extensive DVD collection . . . but they loved _her_ more. She was the official little sister of the crew.

"That is a sexy TV, Chaos. Even you have to admit it."

She rolled her eyes, pulling a towel from the laundry and cracking it at Mirror like a whip, causing him to squeak and nearly climb Kip as the others laughed.

"_**My**_ TV, Mirror. Go get your own. You guys ready to paint?"

They all sighed, nodding as Kip held his hand out for the key.

"Yes oh wonderful Master. Let us go paint so we can eat. What are we having anyway?"

She turned to Murdock, smirking as he blushed and shuffled his feet.

"Murdock's helping me cook while you guys paint. Coconut curry tapenade and toast points, right? With steaks and potatoes."

Tumbler nodded while Mirror smirked. Kip just rolled his eyes, motioning for Toby and Freb to follow.

"Just send Khail down here when he _finally_ decides to grace us with his presence. We'll get started."

And with that, he started ushering the others out and down to the next apartment. He stopped, glancing back just in time to see the beaming smile Chaos was giving the still blushing pilot in her living room.

Kip smirked, shaking his head. He might not be practical but he wasn't stupid.

Chaos had a crush . . . _and the Old School is going to freak . . ._


	6. Reunions pt 1

_Thank you all so much for the reviews and the favs. I appreciate it. Its good to know my madness is contagious. This is part one of an at least two part update, maybe three depending on the chapter length. On with the show . . ._

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**Reunions pt 1**

Murdock watched the steaks in the oven cook, trying not to count the seconds ticking by on the timer. He really wished Chaosia would come back upstairs.

Apparently her brother had just arrived and had brought a friend to help . . . a friend who had a decided interest in skinning Mirror alive for any breath he took out of line.

He shrugged, turning back to the stove and the oven to watch their masterpieces gestate. She'd really surprised him with the white truffle she'd added to the potatoes . . . and the steamed cauliflower with garlic and butter was already making his mouth water. He wanted to eat . . . and take a shower. But he definitely wanted to eat more.

He sighed, casting a look back at the patio door.

Chaosia had grabbed the bucket from her pantry, filling it with ice and bottled water before shooting out the door and down the steps as quickly as possible . . . leaving him with absolutely nothing to do but wait. He sighed, glancing at one of the clocks to see that only a few minutes had passed . . . and still no Chaos.

Okay, if she wasn't back in two minutes he was going down there. They had at least another twenty on the food so he could spare a few minutes to go see what color Chaos had picked for his apartment. He grumbled, crossing his arms and situating himself on the counter. He still couldn't believe she'd taken control of the color selection for his apartment. So he wanted to paint one of the rooms bright goldenrod? Big deal. It would go well with his couch and wasn't he supposed to be able to make his home his own?

Though now that he thought about it, maybe letting her do that part was in his best interest. When she'd started about how color affected everything from mood to hunger to even arousal (something he would have to share with Face if his ears ever returned to their former pigment) he'd promptly tossed the color swatches at her and made a bee line for the power tools.

He was still embarrassed when they'd made their way through the modern gauntlet that was the grocery store . . . and he'd been very tempted to scale the gondolas and start picking off the screaming children one by one with various pieces of vegetation and fruit. When he'd confessed that to Chaos, she'd laughed for a solid ten minutes. And when they'd passed through the fresh produce he'd thought he was going to have to pick her up off the floor.

Apparently, wanting to become a veggie sniper was normal when there were six screaming children trying to ram their shopping cart into your kneecaps and see if they'd snap.

When they'd finally gotten to her apartment, he had to admit he was surprised.

She'd pulled up the carpet in her unit and refinished the dark hardwood floors to a mirror shine. The long wall that connected to the unit next door was exposed brick. She's pushed her white overstuffed couch, complete with a multitude of taupe and gray pillows in different shades and prints, against it. A large, driftwood coffee table sat in the center of the room, different books and magazines stacked neatly beside her remotes and the vase of fresh pink and white peonies.

Her TV was mounted on the opposite wall, all of the components neatly hidden in the whitewashed buffet cabinet below it. All of the walls were painted a deep, warm taupe, making the white trim and light furniture pop.

Her bar stools were white and her own desk was tucked nearly where he'd decided to shove his . . . but what amazed him were the picture along the brick wall and in her office area. There, matted and framed, were various pictures of vintage cars and planes, as well as shots of the skies, clouds, the Long Beach skyline and a very pretty coastline.

When he'd asked, she'd actually blushed and admitted she'd taken the pictures when she was younger and traveling with her father. She then told him that every room in her apartment, save the den, had a theme for the pictures. Meaning every picture in every room was taken in the same place.

He'd nodded and picked up her sketch pad, looking through the graphite drawings while she'd changed and started a load of laundry. Then he friends had come and she'd ushered them off . . . and now here he was, sitting all alone nearly forty-five minutes later because one friend was about to slaughter the other.

In** his** new home.

_Oh, to hell with it. _

He was going down there.

* * *

Chaosia watched Tumbler and Mikhail try to restrain BA as Mirror danced around the larger man, trying to escape his wrath and his rather impressive reach. It would've been funny if said man weren't covered from head-to-toe in Evening Twilight paint. Which she had to admit, the dark bluish silver really_ did_ go well with the other man's mocha colored skin . . . not that she'd ever tell him that. The rage burning in his hazel eyes was enough to keep the snickers that had tried to escape at bay and her sarcasm cut to the bare minimum.

_But she just had to ask . . ._

"So . . . why did you think it would be a good idea to dowse Bosco in paint again?"

Mirror stopped, looking at her like she was crazy before having to leap back when BA broke free and almost got him. As he got a little firther away, he glared at the still cursing man as he adjusted his sunglasses.

Because he_** so**_ needed them at **night**_ inside_ the apartment . . .

"I didn't mean to. I was aiming for Kip."

Kip squawked from his spot behind her and she couldn't help the long suffering sigh that passed her lips. 

_Why her?_

Finally, she hung her head and, spinning on her heel, turned to leave. As she passed BA, she grabbed him by an un-paint-covered portion of his shirt and drug him with her.

"C'mon big guy. Khail has some clothes here and so does my dad. Well find you something to wear while I try and salvage your clothes."

She glanced back, glaring at the others.

"I expect this apartment to be done before his clothes you bunch of ninnies. There's only two walls left to paint and I want them done. Quick. And no more paint wars!"

A chorus of "Yes, Mom!" met her ears as she rolled her eyes and pulled the dripping restorer out of the apartment with her. BA grumbled, but allowed himself to be led up the stairs and to the door of her apartment. When they got there, she turned, giving him an apologetic smile.

"I'll go get you some sweats . . . just . . . wait here okay? Unfortunately, you're going to have to strip out here. My floors are hardwood and I do not want paint everywhere."

BA groaned but nodded, looking down at his clothes the same way Sphinx had when Mirror had smurf bathed the lot of them years ago. What was it with bug burly guys and their clothes attachments?

She shook her head, opening the door . . . and walking face first into Murdock as he went to walk out. She yelped, tripping over the threshold and prepared to meet the cement and iron. When she didn't make contact, however, she cautiously opened an eye, seeing that she was not only not on the hard ground but she was most definitely on the surprisingly hard body of one HM Murdock. Who was doing his best tomato impression to date. And, by the heat in her own face, she was probably trying to beat him.

_**Great.**__ Just __**great.**_

She closed her eyes, willing the last few seconds to be a stress induced delusion then opened them again. To see the prettiest moss green eyes staring down at her with wonder, concern and something else she couldn't quite place swirling behind them. She didn't know why, but whatever the unnamed element was to Murdock's wide eyed gaze was had her gut clenching in the most peculiar way while her heart tried to beat right out of her chest.

He leaned in, a calloused hand going to check her forehead before sliding to cup her cheek. The second skin met skin, she knew she'd beaten him for brightest tomato red on a human as the concern started to override the other emotions in his gaze. And for some reason, that disappointed her to no end.

"You okay, Doc?"

She nodded mutely, scrambling off of him and to her feet as she remembered the man behind them. The others wouldn't have thought twice about her lack of coordination (seeing as how a boost was usually the only place she had grace) but BA hadn't been exposed yet. No need to give the man a heart attack to go along with the brain aneurism Mirror was trying to give him.

"Yeah, HM. I'm fine. Just peachy. Look, go be friendly while I get him some clothes. Mirror tried to paint the restorers when the walls got too easy."

Murdock laughed, brushing himself off as he nodded.

"And**_ I_** was the crazy one? You _sure_ know how to pick 'em, Chaos."

She shrugged, shooting inside before he could say anything else. As she sped down the hall and into her bedroom, she grabbed the duffel that housed her Dad and brothers' spare clothes. Her Dad's sweat pants and one of Mikhail's huge tee shirts should fit BA just about right . . . so long as he didn't flex.

As she went to grab a pair of socks for him, she realized just what had happened earlier. She'd been laying on Murdock and blushing like an idiot school girl with a crush. And when he'd touched her . . . She sighed, sitting down on the bed in a daze.

No matter what she did, she couldn't shake the look in his eyes from her mind . . . or forget the way it'd felt to be up against him. To be so small, he was surprisingly defined with hard planes and wiry muscle beneath the damned tee shirt and jeans he was wearing. She shook her head. She should not be thinking about anything hard on her former patient . . . But still . . .

_What in the hell was wrong with her?_

* * *

Murdock watched Chaos shoot in the house and had to fight his feet to make them stay in place. He was not chasing after her. No way feet. They were staying still. Because, despite the dulling ache on his tailbone from the impact, he had thoroughly enjoyed the feel of Chaos against him. And it scared the shit out of him.

He'd been sane less than a damn month and what did he do? Start noticing his damn therapist that's what. God, he was a glutton for punishment.

He drug a hand through his sandy hair, turning to at least great her guest . . . and got the biggest shock of the week.

There, on Chaosia's patio, covered in a rather lovely shade of bluish gray paint was Bosco Baracus.

_What in the hell did he do now?_

* * *

BA shook his head, trying not to laugh at the run-in. It was real obvious now why Chaos had been so keen for her brother and the others to help, even if she wasn't ready to admit it yet. Because only two people who wanted to get that close to one another and were too shy to do so turned that bright of a red when it actually happened. It was only a matter of time before Mikhail would be asking him and Tumbler to take a ride and talk to the poor sap about not liking his sister. . .

BA, so engrossed in thinking of how that discussion was going to go, didn't even notice the man had gotten close until he was socked hard in the cheek.

BA staggered back, blinking as his jaw ached and his vision dotted. _What the . . ._

His eyes snapped open, focusing on the shaking form of none other than Murdock. Who had his fists balled and the right one drawn back to deliver another hook.

He ducked, sliding under the fist and catching Murdock when he went to tumble from the failed connection. Which was a very bad idea because as soon as his head was in range, he bucked up and caught BA in the nose.

_Damn the fool had a hard head._

"Damn it, Murdock. Stop trying to kill me ya fool."

Murdock glared, pushing away from him and putting a few feet between them before he started pacing. BA was amazed. He'd never seen Murdock so lucid . . . or livid. And the way he stalked the small patch of cement made him look like a caged tiger waiting to pounce. And suddenly, BA felt like the deer in his sights.

_He __**had **__to fix this . . ._

"Murdock . . "

He spun around, glaring as he stalked closer to him. The pilot was almost nose-to-nose before he stopped and ground out through clenched teeth, "You left me."

BA reached out, trying to comfort only to have his hand batted away as Murdock started again. This time, none of the anger carried in his quiet voice, though it blazed like hellfire in his eyes.

"You all left me. You abandoned me. I went through all that and you left me. Alone. Why, Bosco? I never would've done anything to hurt any of you. You guys were my family."

BA felt his heart wrench and knew his worst fear had become a reality. Hannibal and Face had always thought that Murdock would be fine with being left. Or at least they acted like it. But now he knew that the crazy fool had reacted the same way he would have. He felt betrayed. And for a damn good reason. They had left him. Abandoned him. And even if it had been for his own good, it still had to hurt like hell.

BA cast his eyes down, nodding to his friend. His _brother._

"I know we did, man. And I understand if you hate us. But we didn't see any other . . . We thought you'd _**die**_ if we didn't."

* * *

Murdock took a step back and took in a deep breath. He knew that they had to have a good reason to do it. The rational part of his mind recognized it and the truth in Bosco's words . . . but the emotional part of him was still sore and raw at the necessary act. He'd sworn to himself that when he saw them, eh wouldn't do this. He wouldn't lash out and let the hurt and rage take over. But when he'd seen him standing there, looking for all the world like he'd never helped dump in a place that could've turned out to be a lot worse than it had . . . it all bubbled to the surface. And he'd just taken it all out on Bosco.

He felt his shoulders sag as he looked up at his friend, meeting Bosco's eyes. He felt like shit . . . God, being sane wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

"Bosco . . . look big guy, I'm sorry. I just . . . it was . . ." He sighed, taking in the shaking breath before starting over.

"I just missed you guys and I thought you'd forgotten about me . . . that you'd all finally left me to rot like the fruitcake I was . . ."

Chaosia came out the patio door, holding a sacrificial towel and the clean clothes for BA, convinced that her face was now close to a normal color. She'd taken a few minutes to calm down and gather herself. She was ready to face Murdock without blushing . . . _or hopefully tripping over her own feet._

But as she looked up and laid eyes on what was waiting for her, she knew she hadn't waited nearly long enough.

Because there on her back patio was Murdock, trying to escape the death-grip masquerading as a hug that BA had him locked in. Both were close to tears while Bosco kept telling Murdock how sorry he was and he'd let him fly him anywhere just once. . . and covered in the damn paint.

_Why did this shit always happen to her?_


	7. Of interludes and Explanations

_Okay this chapter gave me a little bit of trouble in coming together. I must have scrapped it twice and I'm still not completely satisfied with it . . . but it will go with what I have outlined to happen (because anyone who reads my other stories knows how strict I am about staying to my outlines . . . yeah nobody comment). And by the way, I am in no way bashing anyone, it just seems like the way they'd respond to someone questioning their masculinity. So, on with the show. _

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* * *

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**Of Interludes and Explanations**

Chaosia had always prided herself on being able to handle just about anything. Hell, it was one of the reasons that when Mikhail and her Dad had started squawking about her going to school and finding a legal profession to defer to when she was older that she'd chosen to do psychology. She could literally handle and process most of what people had to throw her way . . . but for the life of her, walking outside to find her brother's burly new friend and the guy she'd been blushing crimson over locked in a tight embrace with the waterworks only seconds away had left her speechless.

She shook her head, trying to see if she was just hallucinating or if this was really happening to her.

Unfortunately, it was.

Finally, she had enough and stepped a little closer, clearing her throat to catch their attention.

As soon as she was noticed, both men shot apart and to different ends of her tiny patio. And if it hadn't been for the fact that they were now both covered in paint and Murdock's clothes were currently doing the tango in her washer, then she would've fallen over laughing. They both looked like they'd been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. Especially BA.

_What in the world was going on around here?_

She sighed, putting her hands on her hips; BA's change of clothes still clutched within them, and turned to Murdock. When he blushed and started to shuffle his feet, she raised a brow and started tapping her foot. She knew she was channeling her mother, but damnation this was ridiculous. First the paint wars downstairs then she almost get flattened and now she finds the two of them practically . . .

"Don't even_ try_ that look with me, James HM Murdock. I know it all too well and I am _**not**_ Nurse Burns. Now, are you going to explain how in five minutes you're both covered in paint and groping one another on my back porch? Or do I need to guess?"

Murdock's head ducked a little further as BA registered just what she'd said and jumped into action defending them.

"Whoa, Chaos. Ain't nothin' like that goin' on here. We're old friends and . . . Well, I hadn't seen him in a while and-"

Murdock seemed to latch on to the though, jumping in to try and save some of their dignity and cover. He stepped closer, reaching out to place a hand on her arm as he looked at her beseechingly.

"We didn't know that the other was in town and to find him here was just-"

Chaos looked between the two of them before rolling her eyes. Did they honestly think that this was going to work? For real they thought she was that damn dumb? She pulled away from Murdock, going to lean against the railing and look at the two of them. She gathered herself and leveled her best deadpan look on them. Oh her father would be so proud for what she was about to do . . .

"So you're what? Like ex-boyfriends or something? Because I gotta tell you boys, walking out and to that just doesn't scream old friendly reunion. I mean, Murdock I was kind of starting to wonder about you . . . but _**you**_ BA? I never would've guessed you were . . . . "

"A what? NO!"

"What do you mean you were- you think I'm? I'm not . . . Damn it I like **girls **okay?"

Chaosia, however just nodded despite their outbursts, reaching out to hand BA the clothes and towel. She would either get the truth or they would have to come up with something a lot better than "old friends". Plus, this would be fun to watch. Her oldest brother was right; she should still check and see if the CIA needs anymore psychological warfare experts. Because these poor idiots had no clue what was hitting them.

"Sure, sure guys. If you're gay it's cool. I don't care either way. Hell, I'll even introduce you to Paul, one of you two will get along with him great . . . and he definitely needs another boyfriend than the loser he's got . . .Too bad though, Murdock."

They both continued to try and argue their case as she pushed away from the railing and started back into her house. As she was almost through the doors, she turned back and smiled over her shoulder at them. Murdock looked terrified and BA just looked torn between laughing and screaming. At least neither one of them was crying anymore. Murdock looked at her pleadingly, asking, "Too bad what, Chaosia?"

She shrugged, winking as she walked back in, calling out, "You'll never know, _Ace_."

The groans she heard assured her, as she went to check on their food, that she would have her answers_ quick_. She pushed down the little streak of regret and doubt at her tactics. She might not enjoy mind games but she was the fucking master at them when she had to be.

_And they were just about to learn it._

* * *

Murdock turned to BA, mouth opening and closing as he stared at his friend hopelessly.

She thought he was gay? She thought HE was GAY? That was as bad as calling Hannibal stupid or Face ugly . . . . because it was so wrong. He _**loved**_ women. Loved them so damn much he usually put as much distance between himself and the opposite sex as possible. Not out of fear, mind you, but for _their_ own protection. Because very few women could deal with the way he was even _**before**_ he was crazy.

But to hear Chaos say those words, to hint that maybe she might've wanted to see if she_ could_ handle all of his damage and his issues, and that now she wouldn't because she thought he was GAY! And with Bosco?

BA seemed to snap out of it long enough to see some sort of humor in this whole situation because his damn shoulders were shaking with the force of his laughter. Murdock turned and glared at him, not finding a damn thing about this funny at all.

"Damn it Bosco! Stop laughing or I'll throw your ass out of another 'copter as soon as I get my hands on one!"

BA however just laughed even harder, doubling over as he held his sides.

"Damnation, you crazy fool; you sure picked one this time."

All of Murdock's anger left him in a rush as he stared at BA like he was crazy.

"Excuse me? What do you mean I picked one?"

BA straightened, smirking as he started to remove the paint drenched shirt. Murdock turned, trying to give the man as much privacy as possible . . . and to dissuade any of Chaosia's ponderings if she was looking.

"You like her. But I'd make a move before Face finds her. Sosa lingering in the background or not, Face has never been able to let a pretty blond slip away. _**Especially**_ with her attitude. So, who is she to you anyway?"

Murdock sighed, looking down at his now ruined tee shirt. Who _was_ Chaosia to him? Or, more to the matter, _what_ was she to him? She wasn't his therapist-not legally anyway- and while he wanted to call her a friend, his gut was telling him that the word wasn't enough. That she was more than a friend . . . he just didn't know_ how_ . . .

"I-Well, we-She's my friend, Bosco. She helped me a lot at Camarillo. She was my Doc . . . well, one of them anyway. And her old man set up the deal I've got. Apparently, before I met ya'll I knew him. And barrel rolled one of his friends just to do it."

BA snorted, pulling the almost-too-tight tee shirt on over his head. The sweats Chaos had given him just barely hit the top of his feet and the towel he'd used to blot off paint was now almost completely soaked. At least he liked the color . . .

"And he wanted to help you? Sounds as crazy as you . . ."

Murdock nodded, not disagreeing as he took the towel BA held out and using the last clean corner to wipe the paint off of his face. He sighed, looking down at the towel. Chaosia had done a nice job of picking a color he would like . . . He glanced up at BA, hesitating slightly before he asked what was running through his mind.

"Why do you think I like her, Bosco? I mean, I don't even know . . ."

BA just shrugged, rubbing the back of his head as he glanced back at the apartment.

"The way you were holding her before, you fool. If you don't you're damn close . . . And the only reason you _don't_ know it is because you're crazy, Murdock. Or have been for a long time. Tell me this, when was the last time you even looked at girl as something other than a girl?"

Murdock felt his cheeks flame and he turned, grumbling as stalked back into the apartment. He didn't care if he was covered in paint or not, he was going to talk to her. And he was getting away from Bosco and all of his "you like her" nonsense. Because seriously, why would someone like her want anything to do with a fruitcake like him?

* * *

As the patio door opened, Chaosia looked up and rolled her eyes before grabbing the very frustrated Murdock and leading him to her bathroom. He was about her height and she knew she had a pair of Paul's sweats stashed somewhere that she wore when they had movie night . . . so she'd just sacrifice them and a wife beater for the cause. _These guys were killing her stash of comfy clothes and quick._

She reached out, starting the water and adjusting the setting before turning to leave. She would grab him the clothes and a towel and all would be fine. She looked up to find him looking at her and felt her world do that shifty thing again. Seriously, what was it about the way he looked at her when they were alone that made her knees want to go weak? She frowned to herself, not in the mood to deal with anything emotional or confusing. She just wanted to get him clean, in fresh clothes and eat. Then survey the damage the idiots had down downstairs . . . Keeping that in the forefront of her mind, she stepped closer, going to move around him. Never in a million years expecting him to step back in her way.

She stopped, looking him square in the eye with a brow raised. Murdock never wanted to face any form of confrontation emotionally. Battle and flying were one thing. He was safe there because instinct took over and protected a mind that had literally been battered and abused since he was a small child. _This _was new . . . and she couldn't honestly say that part of the tingling her tummy wasn't from the fear of how this might go . . .

"Bosco is not my **_ex_**, Chaosia."

She let out a breath she wasn't aware she'd even been holding, thankful it sounded like an exasperated sigh and not one of relief. She shrugged, continuing to glare up at him and she stood on tiptoe and matched his serious tone. The look on his face made slipping into the old habit so worth it.

"Why, Murdock, I don't care one bit if he's your damned lovechild. I was caught off guard. It's not every day you walk outside and see** two** Army Rangers practically _groping_ each other."

His eyes narrowed and he growled, making her even tempted to giggle at the now evident frustration she was causing him. It would be _**so**_ much easier if he'd just tell her the truth . . .

"I am not-Bosco isn't my-" suddenly something clicked into place behind those moss green eyes and his eyes narrowed dangerously as he took a step forward, closing the tiny space between them. He no longer looked frustrated just cautious and oh-so-serious about protecting himself and his friend. Chaosia rolled her eyes. _Seriously?_ What was she going to do? She was a freaking criminal herself (though not to the same extent) and she was his damn therapist! Anything he told her was privileged information and protected by the damn law. So long as he didn't plan to kill anyone.

"How do you know Bosco's a Ranger?"

Chaosia sighed, shoulders sagging as she pushed her now damp bangs out of her face. The steam from the shower was building in the same bathroom and making it increasingly hard to think straight. Well, that and the fact that she and Murdock were now flush against one another. She looked up at him, a deadpan look stretched across her features as she rolled her eyes at him.

"The same way I know that his last name isn't Lang, its Baracus. You practically jumped him when you saw him, HM. And I doubt that there are a lot of people you'd do that to. And before you start, I don't_** care**_. This is Long Beach, Murdock. Illegal is a way of life. As long as he doesn't do anything to hurt you or my brother and our family then I have no problem turning a blind eye to it. I knew that when you were released your buddies would probably scamper from the woodwork. And so long as no one else notices them doing it, I think it'll be fine for you to see them. Bring you some closure and all."

She smirked, crossing her arms as she preened up at his now dumbfounded expression. She was going to have to let both of them in on what happened with Otto's and the crew if they were really around for the long haul. Less chance of an accidental discovery that way. But she could do that over dinner, with everyone else to help is she had to. Right now, she was not going to let this wonderful opportunity go to waste . . .

"I _still _think you're exes, though."

* * *

Murdock stared down at her, mouth wide open like a slack jawed idiot as what she'd said registered. She knew Bosco was a Ranger, and a part of the A-Team and she didn't care? And why in the hell would their presence cause harm to her family? Something was going on with these people. _Something big_. When he found Hannibal, he'd have him scour his contacts to find all of the information he could about this. They couldn't afford to go in blind.

With that laid to rest, his steam addled brain finally picked up on her last little taunt. She still thought he was? Oh for the love of . . . He would _**show **_her!

* * *

BA walked into the apartment quietly, looking around at the home of Murdock's new friend. Face and Hannibal would both die if they found out that Murdock was already set up and pretty much stable. Which meant all of the preparations Face had been making in the room he'd claimed as Murdock's were definitely going to waste.

AS the timer went off on whatever was on the stove, he reached out and turned it off, removing what smelled dangerously close to his coconut curry from the heat before it could burn. This was just weird. Where were they?

He sighed, listening to see where either of the two loons was. What surprised him was hearing the water running.

What in the hell?

As he made his way down the small hallway, he saw steam pouring from beneath one of the doors. He weighed his options before shrugging and pushing the door open slightly. If he walked in on anybody he could claim the paint in his ears was blocking sound. Yeah, that could work.

But what he found was not what he was expecting at all.

Murdock had Chaosia backed against the vanity and was staring down at her intensely as she glared up at him. Finally, Murdock shook his head and turned, shedding his shirt and going for his jeans as he muttered and she shook her head. Finally, she turned and grabbed a towel, tossing it at his head as she chuckled.

He turned and glared at her, a very dark blush tainting his cheeks.

"I **_really_** don't like you right now, Doc."

She laughed throatily as she walked over and planted a small kiss on his cheek, making the blush darken even more.

"That's fine, HM. I like you enough for the two of us for now. Take your shower and come eat and we'll watch the Battle of Britain . . . after the others go home, okay?"

He nodded, turning to finish undressing as BA realized Chaosia was turning to leave.

BA blinked, and then rubbed a hand over his eyes. This was not happening. Not with Murdock. He'd been half-joking when he'd told the man to make a move . . .

He backed slowly out of the room and closed the door, refusing to be involved in whatever was happening with them. Chaosia seemed like a nice girl and had plenty of big brother figures to dish out whatever they needed to keep the crazy pilot in check . . . which meant that he'd better call Face and warn them. Long Beach was where they were staying for the foreseeable future.

Because there was no way in hell he was going to deny Murdock a chance at happiness.

Even he wasn't that heartless.

* * *

_Okay it wasn't too bad . . . see. Yeah . . . _


	8. Unclipping his Wings

_Yay! Thanks everyone for all of the support. Okay, I decided to introduce Stockwell. But he isn't going to be a baddie . . . Oh, and if anyone has any ideas or suggestions about the date mentioned at the end, feel free to let me know. I have a few ideas but outside input is always appreciated for things like this. And AlyshebaFan2 you are so responsible for my newfound love of Murdock in a suit. _

_

* * *

_

**Unclipping his Wings**

As the extended group had piled into Chaosia's apartment, a silence had settled between the Rangers and Chaos . . . and Mikhail wasn't so dumb as not to notice. He was, however, very careful to not let on that he had. Chaos had her reasons for everything that she did. And while he might not always be as keen to her ideas as she'd like, he did at least try and be supportive. She had, after all, done pretty much the same for him plenty of times.

This Murdock guy kept looking at his sister in a way that he was not too happy about . . . but at least he was looking at her. And, in his observation of them as they finally started talking and joking along with the others, he treated her fairly well. No, scratch that. He treated Chaos better than any person he'd ever seen. Himself included. He would never admit it to either of them but he couldn't see anyone else better suited for his hare brained baby sister . . . and to think that their Pops had picked him out. Maybe the old man did know what he was doing after all . . .

Now as he and the others were getting ready to leave, full and happy with enough leftovers to feed them at least once the next day, Mikhail noticed the way that BA pulled Murdock to the side and spoke with him. He bit back his grin as Kip turned to look at him with a wink and grin before ushering Mirror out as quickly as possible. The two knew that whatever burden their newest addition was shouldering was heavy. And that he would talk to them in his own time . . . But if he wanted to confide in Chaos and Murdock then he wouldn't stand in the way.

He watched as the two men nodded, shaking hands before BA moved to follow Tumbler. And steal another biscuit from the plate the blond boost was trying his damnedest to keep out of the man's reach.

He shook his head, turning to hug Chaos as she rolled her eyes at Tumbler's squawk from the hallway.

"Hey BA! Man, Chaos gave those to me, damn it!"

She looked up to him as he tried to bite back his laughter, letting her shoulder some of his weight as he heard something heavy hit the hallway wall and another squawk.

"I swear that boy is going to be as big as a barn one day, mark my words. Didn't he get enough to eat already?"

Mikhail shrugged, squeezing her closer before dropping a kiss on her hair and stepping away.

"No clue, sis. Look, let me get these guys home and I'll see you later."

He turned to Murdock, smirking as he took the man's extended hand and shook. Hard. Hey, he couldn't be too lax or she would notice . . .

""Murdock, it was pleasure man. See you around."

* * *

Chaosia rolled her eyes for the millionth time that night as she pushed her bother out of her apartment. Why did her mother have to give birth to one of the most protective idiots in the world? Seriously?

As she shut the door, she slumped back against the cool wood and gave Murdock an apologetic smile as she shrugged.

"Sorry . . . they're a little excitable. So, wanna go see the color or do you want to wait until in the morning?"

Murdock shrugged, yawning mid-action and answering her question. He needed sleep.

She sighed, pushing away from the door.

"C'mon, cowboy. Let's get you to bed. I know you're probably beat, after meeting up with your ex and getting painted."

His glare was enough to make her laugh all the way down her hall.

* * *

Hours later, as he lay stretched out across her couch; Murdock had to wonder exactly what he was going to do about Chaosia. She was spinning his head around in circles, literally twisting his brain to the point that he didn't know what to do next.

Why in the hell had she kissed him earlier? And why hadn't he been able to stop thinking about it?

Every time he'd looked at her after he'd gotten out of the shower, he'd felt her lips brush against his skin all over again. And while that may sound sweet, romantic and completely sappy it was driving him bat shit crazy. Which was something he really didn't want to be again.

So, in his hours of contemplation, he'd come to the conclusion that the mudsucker was right. He liked Chaosia as more than a friend. Way more. But therein laid the problem.

What in the hell was he supposed to do _**now**_?

It would be some much simpler if he was anyone else. Face would step in, the epitome of walking sex and sweep her off her feet. He'd take her to some romantic restaurant, wine and dine her until she was nothing but a smoldering mess and then he'd move in for the kill. Hannibal would have every detail, no matter how ridiculous or minute, planned to perfection. He would probably even know what she'd wear before she did. And BA would . . . he shook his head, refusing to even try to imagine what BA would do on a date.

But what in the hell would he do if he liked a girl? Take her to group therapy? He snorted, rolling over. That would be pointless anyway . . . she was the last therapist he'd had.

He let out a frustrated sigh, turning to resituate his pillow before flopping back into his makeshift bed. He had to talk to Face. Tomorrow.

Good thing he was going with BA to meet them after he and Chaos had lunch with her dad.

He groaned, rolling and burying his face in the lumpy pillow. He was eating with her Dad tomorrow.

_Great, just freaking great._

* * *

Chaosia walked out of the bedroom, tugging her shirt a little straighter before she looked up and felt her breath catch. Her Dad had sent over a wardrobe bag for Murdock this morning, with strict instructions for both of their attire since they were meeting (or re-meeting rather) Colonel Stockwell for lunch. And she had to admit it, she owed her Dad a hug.

The slim-fit dress shirt was tailored to fit Murdock's wiry frame, showcasing his trim waist and broad (for his body type anyway) shoulders, as well as defined arms. The pretty flint green color made his eyes seem even greener while the sleek charcoal gray wool and silk suit made his naturally fair complexion seem just a tad darker. He'd left the fitted blazer unbuttoned while they were in the apartment but she could still see the way the supple material fit snug at his waist. The only thing off were the dark gray Chuck Taylors on his feet . . . but for some reason they were _so_ him that she couldn't see forcing him into the polished Italian leather loafers by the door.

She blinked, circling him as she took in the change of wardrobe. He fidgeted, tugging the cuff of his sleeve a little straighter. Finally, she nodded. He did look good like this . . . but she knew he was far more comfortable in his jeans and tee shirts . . . or cargoes and Hawaiian shirts.

She reached out, smoothing the shoulders of the jacket as he stood a bit straighter under her inspection.

"You look fine, HM. And you'll do fine."

He smiled at her nervously, running a hand through his now semi tame sandy hair.

"Thanks, Chaos. You think?"

She nodded, smoothing his lapel. His smile became genuine as he stepped a bit closer, looking her over the way she had him.

She knew she was blushing but she couldn't help it.

She knew her dress was a little odd but she'd bought it on a whim and now she finally had the excuse to wear it. Besides, she loved the way the dark navy silk looked against her summer tan. The fukuoka folds along the bodice had been expertly pleated and tucked into the thick waist band. The ponte-skirt that fell to just above her knees made the skirt just formal enough for what they were going to do without being too dressy and ostentatious. Coupled with her favorite coat with a pinch of plaid and flecks of gold throughout, not to mention the satin ribbon attached to the left lapel, dainty tortoiseshell buttons, she knew that she looked good.

He swallowed loudly, giving her another sweet but nervous smile.

"You look amazing, Chaosia. More so than usual . . . not to say you don't usually-I mean-"

She laughed, silencing him with a finger across his lips.

"I get it, Captain. So, on to lunch?"

He nodded, shooting ahead of her to get the door. She shook her head, chuckling to herself before following. But what made her almost die laughing was the look on his face when he noticed her shoes. Apparently, James HM Murdock was a leg man. And the navy crepe satin stiletto pumps (approximately 120mm high and Christian Louboutin to boot) were very much to his liking. She grinned, strutting past him with an exaggerated swagger on purpose. What gave the pumps the extra little something was the large satin two-tone bow on the back of the heel, pointed toe and a signature red sole.

As she passed him, she could have sworn she heard him mutter something in what sounded like Swahili but she didn't pry. She knew this was going to be hard on him, but Stockwell's approval was the only way he was getting his wings back. And if that meant that she would put up with some muttered Swahili (or any other language) then she would.

She just hoped that this wasn't going to be too hard on him . . . for both of their sakes.

* * *

Chaosia had led the way to what was apparently her and her father's favorite table in the Deja View room of the Sky Room restaurant and procured to menus before declaring that they were not going to wait for her father and Stockwell before ordering. Which is what led to the glass of white wine she was nursing and the Atlantic Salmon with sautéed spinach, saffron fingerling potatoes and citrus shallot confit cooling in front of her. Murdock sat beside her, watching her drink as they waited on her father and the Colonel. As it turned out, Chaosia had been justified in not waiting seeing as in fifteen mintues after their orders were placed they'd been called and told to start without them . . . But it was still something that hadn't really set well with him.

He'd never liked being in awkward social settings and having two very important people pop up half way through a meal was going to be awkward . . . But he'd done as she asked and ordered. And he had to say, his girl and her father had taste.

_**Expensive**_ taste.

He was sure his own plate of the Shelton Farm Game Hen with long grain rice, toy box tomatoes covered with the white truffle sauce was more expensive than all of the clothes on both of their backs . . . But it wasn't going to stop him from savoring every damn bite. He'd been living on VA food for months and Face and B.A.'s cooking before that (mainly because they wouldn't let him cook after discovering his new secret sauce incidents) . . . and the five star meal was just what the doctor had ordered. Speaking of which . . .

"So ya'll know all of that stuff you wrote in the report Stockwell was given is complete hogwash, right? I mean, I might not've been in my _complete_ right mind but I** knew** what going on. I even refused to be tried separately at the tribunal . . . "

Chaosia just took another drink of her wine, shrugging as she finally started eating her food. She closed her eyes, savoring the salmon before answering him.

"We _know_ . . . and honestly, HM I don't care. They should've never put you _back_ into any kind of combat . . . They're getting what they deserve. Besides, from everything my Dad's dug up and heard over the past few months you guys_ were_ set up. Those charges should've been dropped and the whole breaking out of jail bit should've been satisfied with the time you guys had served being wrongfully imprisoned."

She forked out another bite of the salmon, reaching across and dipping it in the excess white truffle sauce on his plate before plopping it in her mouth.

"They_ should_ have been taking care of their own . . . not nailing them to the cross. Besides . . . my Dad _hates_ the CIA. Anyway he can fuck with them makes his week. And this really pissed off them _**and**_ the DOD. So congratulations, you made his month."

Murdock shrugged, reaching across and spearing a saffron potato from her plate as the waiter came and refilled his sweet tea (which was _**so**_ not sweet at all) and her wine glass. They ate in silence until a man taller than Hannibal walked up, decked in a dark charcoal suit and smiling as he dipped to kiss Chaosia's cheek. Even though he'd met her father, the man's very presence still had him on edge . . . The very distinct British lilt to his voice however, caught him off guard. The accent was strong today, not muted like it had been in his offices earlier in the week. As a matter of fact, it had been so slight that he almost hadn't caught it. 

_What was going on here?_

"Sorry I'm late, Duckie. I swear that** Sosa** just kept calling to be a bother . . . if she thinks that harassing me will get me to re-nig then she's out of her bloody mind."

He turned, eyes the same color as Chaosia's taking in every detail and imperfection, making Murdock want to crawl under the table.

Another man joined them, this one coming a bit closer to his own height. His white hair was combed over and away from his face. Bright blue eyes shone out of weathered but otherwise youthful face with a severe intelligence that made Murdock pay closer attention. Because this guy was obviously going to study every little detail of their outing.

Chaosia, sensing his plight, smacked her father and the newcomer, hissing at him both of them.

"Daddy! Uncle Hunt! You _**both**_ promised to behave. I would like to get him in the air again before you start trying to drive him insane."

She rolled her eyes as her father shrugged and laughed while her 'uncle' gave her an apologetic smile. Both sat, ordering the same plate Murdock himself had gotten and a pint of (surprisingly) beer to split between them. After the waiter was gone, she started the introductions.

"James HM Murdock, you've met my father. Edward Prometheus Guadimus. Daddy, you got to torture Murdock earlier this week so be nice or I swear I won't ever make the pie again."

"Yes, ma'am. Whatever keeps you baking and happy."

Her father had paled, nodding before liberating his alcohol from the waiter as Stockwell busted into a deep, rolling laugh and clapped Murdock on the shoulder.

"I'm Hunt Stockwell. I doubt you remember me from Saudi . . ."

Murdock nodded, facing the man that held his ability to rejoin the clouds in his hand. He did remember him . . . vaguely anyway.

"I do, sir. And I have to say, sorry about the whole trying to get you to puke thing but my CO put me up to it."

Stockwell chuckled, nodding as he took a drink of beer.

"I have no doubt about that, boy. Turner always did hate me because I didn't think he hung the moon and stars. No hard feelings. Besides, I rather enjoyed watching the bastard blow chunks all over Douglas. Even if it _did_ end up on my best dress uniform."

Murdock couldn't help it, he laughed.

* * *

As the lunch went on, Murdock learned ta bit more about Chaosia's father and her godfather, Hunt Stockwell.

Guadimus, as he already knew, was an Englishman and a former Ambassador to the States. What he learned was that he currently was the CEO of a rather large conglomerate of businesses and a security advisor for the FBI. After Chaosia's mother passed away, he started splitting his time between Long Beach, Langley and London-all of which he owned houses in.

Murdock also learned that he and Stockewell were both trying to get his stubborn daughter to take up residence in the Long Beach home and she refused, keeping her tiny "shoebox" apartment in the complex close to downtown so she could be near her half-brother.

The same complex that he would officially be taking up residence in starting tonight.

He still couldn't believe, even sitting in the restaurant and eating a real meal that he was _free_. As free as he could be without being able to fly, anyway. And he'd been declared _sane_.

He knew somehow that it wouldn't last, it never did with his family, but it was nice to be so . . . normal. Even temporarily. So he decided to make the best of it and enjoy his company. He watched the three of them laugh and interact, cutting up and acting as crazy as his own family had in Texas before his grandparents had passed away and he'd been thrown to the sharks in the foster care system.

Chaosia's laughter carried throughout the now nearly deserted room as her father regaled them with stories of his one of his other oldest American friends, a taciturn general by the name of Douglas. The same Douglas that Murdock had tried to make airsick with Stockwell almost ten years before. Murdock laughed, remembering the other people in the chopper freaking out while the two older brass had just looked out the window and shrugged, not the least bit upset or scared. When they'd landed, the man had even shaken his head at his retching companions before carrying on like they hadn't been tossed all over the clouds.

And all of them had been covered in the breakfast special of the day.

Needless to say, Murdock had officially become one of Guadimus and Stockwell's favorite people . . . being _Southern_ had only added points. Chaosia's own mother had come from an old Southern family, and the one to introduce the man and his best friend beside him years before either joined the service.

Which, while making for an interesting family and friend tree, actually accounted for the twinge of accent he could hear creep into Chaosia's voice now that she was relaxed and joking. The mix between the British proper and Southern drawl was unique . . . and probably the cutest damn thing he'd heard in years. _Face would probably trip over himself to get Chaosia to drawl to him in true Southern Bell fashion . . ._

He shook himself, forcing his mind away from them. He was out and he was free. And he had done it mostly on his own. And while he missed them something horrible, he wasn't going to think about them while he was here. Mainly because every time the thought crossed his mind, Chaosia's pretty eyes and sweet smile brought him right back to not really wanting to. Because going and seeing them before he had to at four meant having to leave her quicker. _And he didn't want to leave her . . . not if she didn't want him to . . . _

Her father standing brought his attention to the trio. Guadimus hugged Chaos as Murdock rose from his seat, making a point to shake Stockwell's hand before turning to Guadimus and taking the extended card. A card with three numbers scrawled across the back.

"If you need anything, boy-o, just call."

Chaos excused herself to the restroom and Guadimus took the opportunity to talk.

Stockwell shook his head, butting in before his friend could get too carried away. He pulled a small leather booklet from his coat, handing it to Murdock as he smirked. When he opened it though, he didn't know what to do. Inside was a smaller copy of his flying license and certifications. The personal copies pilots liked to keep in smaller planes and on hand just in case. He looked up at both of the grinning men, astounded at what he held in his hand.

This was it.

The final piece of his freedom was here.

_He was really free. _

"I'm fine with you having this back, son. I think, given the circumstances, that you should be able to put your head in the clouds. Just make sure to not make anybody puke. Congratulations my boy. You're Airborne again."

Guadimus rolled his eyes, continuing what he'd started like Stockwell had never spoken, though the look he was giving the truly unfazed man was humorous . . . and Murdock found himself suddenly wondering if this is what he and Face looked like to an outsider . . .

"I hope Chaosia's right . . . but I have a feeling that regardless of what her and Weaver have said, those boys at the CIA and DOD will still hassle you. So do yourself a favor and keep the card. And remember, if they so much as even _**think**_ of touching you again . . . well, I can make them regret it. One way or another."

Murdock stood there, shocked at the cold quality the man's eyes had taken on. Stockwell just rolled his eyes and muttered on about the idiots in power and his friend's flare for the theatrical while Murdock had to remember to breathe. Even Hannibal and B.A. would've been scared shitless of this guy . . . and Stockwell acted completely nonplussed. Just who the hell were these two? Really?

Guadimus, however, seemed to catch himself and shrugged, continuing.

"Especially if you're going to be around _**my**_ little girl as much as I think you are. I mean, you are practically neighbors now."

"Why are you so keen on that Sir? I kinda thought that you'd be pushin' me away from Chaos and you, not pullin' me in."

Guadimus laughed, pulling a cigarette case from his jacket and lighting a clove, purposefully ignoring the glaring Mater Dee. He winked, flicking his lighter closed before securing both back in his coat and enjoying his very illegal cigarette.

"Boy-o . . . my little girl is special. And not because she's mine or my only girl, though both are good enough reasons for her to be."

Stockwell gave Guadimus a deadpan look before he continued for him.

"What the great buffoon means is that Chaosia has a habit of collecting strays. Over the years, she's brought home all sorts of people . . . but they've all had one thing in common. They needed to be fixed. And she always insists on helping."

Guadimus nodded, taking a hard draw from the black cigarette before continuing as Stockwell signed for the check.

"You . . . you're something different, though. I don't know how yet but I know you're gonna be important to her. So . . . I've decided to let her run her course. Besides, stopping her is like trying to stop nature. It doesn't really happen. Plus, I like you, as well as one insane man can like another insane man, I suppose. Just be warned . . . you hurt her, or cause any harm to befall her, and I'll have you bagged tagged and back at the funny farm before you can blink. Got me?"

Murdock swallowed, nodding. Hell, this guy could make Pike piss himself. Thank God he was on his side . . . Guadimus nodded, smirking as Chaosia came into sight.

"Good. Now, we're off and you two have an apartment to go finish I wager. Just don't let her get out of control . . . on second thought, I'll call Khail and he can meet you there. Better to have her brother to wrangle her where decorating and furniture are involved. Just like her mother . . . beautiful as hell and crazy as bed bug. "

Murdock watched Chaosia turn a glare similar to the one her father had just worn back on the man as Stockwell laughed. He made a snap decision and stepped between them, placing a hand on Chaosia's shoulder to steady her.

"Actually, we're supposed to go and get clothes or something. Chaos has already made sure my new apartment is as set as it gets. She even introduced me to some of her and your son's friends . . . and made them paint the apartment."

Guadimus and Stockwell shared a look before erupting into peals of laughter, clutching each other as they tried to stay up right. Chaosia rolled her eyes, turning and dragging Murdock behind her. He hoped he'd done the right thing . . . but something told him he'd just stepped in it badly. He really did need to meet Face. He needed advice . . . and ideas on where and how to ask Chaosia on a date.

_God in heaven help him . . ._

* * *

_Murdock's gotta a little crush! Its so cute . . . now to pick the perfect date for two crazy people . . ._


	9. Reunions pt 2

**Reunions pt 2**

Face watched Murdock shift on the couch in the living room, glancing at his phone for the fifth time in as many minutes. His green eyes scanned the phone, growing just a bit dimmer as he waited to receive any kind of contact from the girl that had him tied up in knots. Face sighed, shaking his head as he took another drink of the coffee BA had made before he left for the shop. He grimaced, barely swallowing the bitter brew. Apparently, the resident badass at the garage had taken a sort of shine to the tough-as-nails Ranger and had started to show him a few tricks and tips on the American Muscle cars that BA loved so much. After his dearly departed van, of course. Unfortunately, said man also decided to show BA how to make a pot of coffee that would kill a lesser man.

_Note to self: Don't leave Baracus alone with the coffee pot anymore. __**Period.**_

Hannibal moved, refusing to touch the cup that had been set before him earlier in favor of relighting his cigar. He kept smirking at their friend, chortling to himself as he reassured Murdock that everything was fine and that they were more than glad he'd come back.

Actually, their fearless leader had all but pounced on the poor man the second he'd walked through the door twirling the keys to a rather beautiful 69 Chevelle around his finger nervously. He'd scooped the pilot up in a fierce hug before launching into an almost twenty minute speech of how they'd hated to leave him but they'd had to or he wouldn't have survived.

Murdock had nodded, hugged him back then punched him hard in the shoulder before laughing like a maniac and declaring them even . . . before whistling for _Billy_ to come in with him. He'd then proceeded to carry on a conversation with the damned imaginary dog for almost fifteen minutes before he'd cracked and explained that it was all a joke. _And how he wished he had a camera because he would so love to show those looks to __**Chaosia.**_

Face grumbled, knowing that the looks on their faces _**had**_ probably been priceless but it was still a rotten trick to pull. So their ragging on him about what they knew of Chaosia had been almost justified.

But now, almost an hour later, as they saw how genuinely nervous Murdock was about the girl and how confused he was about his feelings for her, or how to act on them, Face and Hannibal had decided to take pity.

Which is how they ended up sitting in the living room of their latest home, brainstorming on not only the perfect date but the perfect way to ask said girl on said date.

So far, all they'd accomplished was agreeing on not drinking BA's coffee impersonator and making Murdock as antsy as a virgin on prom night. Which probably isn't as bad of an analogy as the pilot would like to believe . . . The man had been out of the dating scene for as long as any of them had known them. And if there were two things that Face knew they were women and his best friend. While Murdock might not want the help (or admit to wanting it) he needed it. Especially with the way BA had talked about the girl and the information he'd gleaned from her brother.

Chaosia was educated, independent and the product of a very diverse and unorthodox upbringing . . . which had also made her fiercely protective of those she considered her own. Face and Hannibal just had to figure out to cement Murdock as hers.

He sighed, leaning forward with his hands clasped loosely in front of him.

"So, you have no clue what she likes other than what you've already done together? Which is arrange your apartment, talk, cook and let her pick your brain while you were at Camarillo. C'mon Murdock, that's not much to work with."

Hannibal nodded, taking a puff from his cigar as he shifted in his own seat.

"Captain, what do her friends do? What has she mentioned in passing? You must have noticed something . . ."

Murdock slumped back into the couch, deep in thought as Face and Hannibal shared a look. They couldn't form a plan without all of the necessary information . . . and they didn't want to out BA to his new group unless absolutely necessary. His integration into Mikhail's crew had actually helped with some of the anger and rage their most recent betrayal had left him with. Being able to connect to people without fear of exposure and judgment had done a lot for his usually sunny disposition. Not to say he was all rainbows and roses now but he seemed more at peace when he was coming in from work or being out with the others. Even last night, after his run in with Murdock and still sporting paint he'd been . . . content.

They weren't going to rob him of that if they didn't have to.

Murdock shot up from the couch, eyes wide as he turned to Face. His former exuberance returning as he nearly bounced in his seat with excitement. Face smiled, not even having to look to know Hannibal was wearing an identical expression. Their friend was fine and no worse for his time away from them. And he was actually going to have a chance to be happy.

Howling Mad Murdock was back.

"I know she likes the beach because there are pictures of her and her brother surfing. Uhm . . .she likes foreign food . . . and she loves to take pictures and to watch movies. Any kind of movies . . .She's real laid back unless she's at work and has this weird sense of style."

Face groaned, slumping back in defeat. Murdock had just armed them with some of the most useless information about the girl. Sure, they were details that made her unique to him and therefore very important but to create the perfect and mind blowing first date they needed something special . . . something no one else had ever done for the girl to set him apart . . .

Hannibal leaned forward, that look starting to form in his eye.

"Tell me, Murdock. Is that her car outside?"

Murdock nodded, pulling the keys he'd been playing with close to his chest with a look akin to horror.

"Yes it is and no you cannot blow it up, Hannibal. She'll kill me if there's so much as a scratch on Harper and I-"

Face interrupted him, perplexed. "Harper?"

Murdock nodded, a blush tingeing his cheeks.

"Yeah, Harper. Chaosia named her after the author of _To Kill A Mockingbird _. . . She likes the book and- You know what? It's not important. The car is Harper and I swear she'll skin me alive if you look at it wrong. She and her brother and father rebuilt the beast from the ground up . . . and made it a damn beast to drive too. It still gets away from me and I've been driving it all damn day."

Hannibal nodded, a confidant smirk on his face as he looked to Face.

Face grinned, leaning forward as Murdock groaned.

_He knew that look. _

Hannibal had a plan.

* * *

Chaosia sat in the office of Otto's checking the invoice book with her brother. Apparently one of the others had misplaced a part and Mikhail was supposed to help locate it. Which meant that she would help him locate it.

She was thankful she had swung by the apartment and changed into the charcoal men styled trousers and the black fitted scoop neck long sleeved shirt. Her hair was still done and her makeup was still on but in the darker clothes she knew she looked a bit more severe. Especially with the clunky black leather belt around her waist and the stilettos on her feet. She needed to get used to the heels anyway so why not practice here?

She sighed, flipping to the next page.

She really did need to make Otto hire a damn secretary and book keeper . . . or just come in for a few hours a day to help like she had in Grad school. Why had she stopped again?

A curse and slam brought her eyes up just in time to see Sway storm in, a sour look on her face.

Her friend's blond twisted dreads had recently been replaced by a choppy cut, though still down past her shoulders. Her bangs were almost always pinned up and out of her face for work . . . but today they were down and swept to the side. Apparently the presence of Memphis today had affected the way she had styled it and had dressed. The painted on skinny jeans, fitted garage shirt and clunky work boots weren't such a far cry from her normal leathers and tanks tops . . . but with her hair and subtle makeup, Sway looked like a whole different Chaosia wasn't too fond of it. She knew Sway was comfortable in her own tattoos, pierced and scarred skin and Memphis had been once too . . . but** now** the man wanted something normal. And Sway was trying for him even though they_ weren't_ together at the moment . . .

Chaosia rolled her eyes.

_Why couldn't the two of them just reconcile and be done with it . . ._

Sway glanced at Mikhail, glaring as he paled.

"**You**. _Out_. _**Now**_."

Mikhail wasted no time hightailing it, almost shutting the door on himself in his haste. Sway turned, pulling a cigarette between her teeth and lighting it before dropping into Mikhail's vacated seat. She inhaled, sighing as the nicotine hit her system. Chaosia raised a brow, setting the books aside. Something was wrong . . .

"_Yes_ Ms. Wayland?"

Sway glared at her before rolling her eyes.

"I'm _supposed_ to be like your best friend and the **idiot patrol** out there knows about this new guy in your life before me or Atley? That's** fucked** up, Chaos. **_Real_** fucked up."

Chaosia sat there stunned. Who? They couldn't mean . . .

"Uh . . . Sway, the only new guy in my life is Dad's friend Murdock. He moved into my building and I'm trying to help him feel more, I don't know at home I guess."

Sway raised a brow, taking another long drag from her cigarette.

"So he isn't the next boyfriend? Then why does BA keep glaring every time the others make a joke and Mikhail informed all of them to leave it alone? I mean, you know how Sphinx is going to react to this-"

Chaosia growled, narrowing her eyes at that statement.

"Sphinx? Why should I care about Sphinx? He's had three years to decide to notice me, Sway. And he's dating that redhead from his work . . . what in the hell does HM have to do with any of this?"

Sway sat back, a satisfied smirk on her lips.

"HM, huh? Sure you're just being friendly, hon?"

Chaosia blushed, shoulders slumping as she glanced to make sure no one was at the door.

"Promise not to say anything?"

Sway nodded, tossing her cig into the ashtray as she leaned forward to listen. She crossed her heart, a serious expression on her face as she swore.

"I swear on _Josephine_. Now spill."

"I think I might like him, okay? I mean, he's got a few issues-but honestly who doesn't- and he's older . . . but he's super sweet and he's a gentleman, Sway. A holds doors and pulls out chairs, sweet smiles and dries the dishes while you wash gentleman. And Dad and Uncle Hunt seem to have taken a shine to him . . . but I'm worried, ya know? It's so complicated . . . especially with how we all work."

Sway shrugged, leaning back.

"So_ tell_ him. I mean, if he's so great then he'll be fine. And if not Tumbler and BA can break his kneecaps and we won't worry about it. I mean, Mikhail and Kip are already talking to Memphis and Otto about cluing BA in on everything. What's _one_ more person? If you think he'll stick around and be good to you, I'll fucking tell him. I love you to death and I'm about tired of seeing you alone. I swear, since you graduated you've spent more time at the _whack-o-basket_ than you have here. I honestly thought you were going to give this all up for a bit . . . Do you think he'd ask you to, if you decide you do like him and tell him about this part of your life?"

Chaosia laughed, shaking her head.

"No way, Sway. Speed is in my blood the same way flying is for him. He wouldn't take me away from it."

"You seem pretty sure about that, love."

She shrugged, picking the book back up as Sway lit another cig. They could gossip while she found the damn part.

"I know him, Sway. Better than I do most people. He's alive in the clouds and the bug blue skies . . . just like I'm alive when I'm playing ditch the cops and pushing 200 on the Costal Highways. HE wouldn't tell me to stop even if he didn't like it. Hell, knowing him he'd probably want to learn how."

Sway laughed, grabbing Mikhail's abandoned book to aid in the search.

"Well if that's the case I'll help you teach him. Anything to keep my partner in crime happy."

Chaosia nodded, happy Sway had offered and broached the topic. Now she just needed to decide if she liked him or not. So far, she was leaning more and more towards yes.

* * *

Murdock pulled into the back lot of Halliwell Restoration, Face smirking in the driver's seat of the Audi R8 following behind him. He knew Chaosia had said to keep the car until tonight but Face had insisted on going with him to pick up the 'company car' Guadimus was loaning to him . . . and had nearly drooled to get behind the wheel of the sleek silver monster as soon as he'd laid eyes on it. Murdock had just nodded and agreed, not really wanting to touch the damn thing until he had to.

He sighed, stepping out of the Chevelle and adjusting his suit. He still hadn't changed from lunch though he'd shed the jacket as soon as he'd gotten to the house. Face climbed out of the Audi, straightening his own pale blue dress shirt and dark designer jeans. At least Face looked like he should be in the damn thing, he was going to stick out like a sore thumb. Especially with the way he usually dressed.

Face came up beside him, falling in step as they made their way into the shop. BA's Hum Vee was parked beside a very nice GT500 and another, almost identical Hummer. Murdock shook his head, trying to place the other Hummer owner . . . It was probably Tumbler.

As they entered the main work area, Kip spotted them and waved the two of them over, a grin on his face. The man beside him was definitely a relative and oddly conservative looking to be a part of the group BA had adopted as a third family. His easy going smile and intelligent blue eyes, however, made both Face and Murdock realize just why BA had taken to him. He was instantly likeable.

"Hey, Murdock. This is my brother, Memphis. You here to see Chaos?"

Murdock nodded, shaking the elder Raines's hand before asking, "Yeah. Any idea where she is? I'm dropping off Harper."

Memphis pointed to the front of the shop at an area almost completely made of old windows.

"She's through that door, in the office . . . but be warned. My girlfriend is in there and she was on a war path earlier."

Murdock nodded as Face stepped around to look at the 73 Corvette the brothers were restoring. As Face started asking questions, Murdock made his way to the office. He had a mission and a plan. Now he just prayed they would work.

* * *

Sway's laughter was cut off by a knocking on the door, prompting the questioning look she threw Chaosia. When the younger girl just shrugged, Sway rolled her eyes and hollered, "Come in!'

But she was definitely not prepared for what walked through the door. A man, a few inches taller than her, dressed in dark charcoal dress pants and a fitted green dress shirt strolled in nervously. When he saw Chaosia, his moss green eyes lit up and he smiled shyly to the now blushing girl that was making her way around the desk.

He held out her keys, a hand running through his sandy hair as he chuckled.

"I got my car so I figured I'd bring you yours. I know your brother was going to drop you but . . . I just didn't want you stranded here."

Chaosia's blush darkened as she smiled at him, nodding once.

"Thanks, HM. This is Sway, by the way. Sway meet HM Murdock. He's the one I was telling you about earlier."

Sway smirked, seeing the opportunity of a lifetime here. She might've forced Atley to leave Chaos and Sphinx alone before but she could play matchmaker all damn day if she wanted to. And she did.

"Wow. Chaos never said you were a cutie ontop of being sweet and charming."

Murdock laughed, blushing himself before turning his pretty green eyes to Chaosia. The light there was plain enough for her to see.

"Well, I'm going to make sure Memphis doesn't strangle Kip. Have a nice visit. It was great to meet you, Mr. Murdock."

And with that, Sway was out of the office before either could object.

Chaosia watched Murdock fidget in place as he stood and examined the office. She sighed, knowing something was wrong. Better find out what.

"Are you okay?"

He jumped, nodding as he turned to face her. His cheeks still slightly red from Sway's very unneeded praise. They were going to discuss not harassing her potential_ whatevers_ later.

"Yeah, I'm fine . . . Look. Do you-I mean-" He stopped, shaking his head in frustration before closing the distance between them. As soon as he was almost flush against her, he started again. His voice, soft and drawling as he pushed a curl out of her face.

"Would you like to go and get something to eat later? Maybe hang out and just . . . get to know each other a bit better Away from the team and work and everything else?"

She swallowed, suddenly very aware of his heat and the havoc it was wrecking upon her. Why did he always make her feel like a school girl when he looked at her like that?

"Like a date, HM?"

He nodded, ever so slightly, leaning in and almost resting his forehead against hers.

"If you want it to be . . . yeah. Like a date."

She took a deep breath . . . and nodded, eyes looking up and into his. He really did have the prettiest eyes . . .

"Okay. What time?"

He smiled, a true bright smile that made her heart stop. She would do anything to see that look on his face again.

"I'll pick you up at eight. Is that enough time?"

She nodded, leaning up as he leaned just a bit further down . . . only to jump away from him as none other than Sphinx came practically barreling into the office, trademark peacoat in hand. The stoic boost stopped short, leveling a dark glare on Murdock as what he'd just stopped registered. Murdock, however, just returned it full on before Chaosia's hand on his arm brought his eyes back to hers.

She smiled up at him and he beamed down at her, dipping to kiss her cheek as he got ready to leave.

"Just come as you are, darling. I'll see you at eight, okay?"

She nodded, watching him waltz right past the still glowering Sphinx. Even when Atley came in, asking a million questions about the guy in the R8 and Kip bragging about filling Face in about the Vette, Chaosia couldn't keep focus. It was only when she caught Sphinx giving her a positively livid look that she realized why the others were so damn smiley. She was still cupping the cheek Murdock had kissed.

Oh bloody hell. She was doomed.


	10. The Date

_The date is finally here . . . Yay! _

_

* * *

_

**The Date**

Chaosia paced in her living room nervously as Mikhail and Sway watched her from the couch. Sway had followed her home and Mikhail had showed up after he'd gotten away from Memphis and Otto. BA had been sat down and clued into the underlying nature of the shop. Though it no longer worked as a chop-shop, Otto's was now home to two of the best boost crews in Long Beach . . . and though it was odd that they picked up more than a stray unicorn these days, he had been invited to participate if he chose . . . and if he didn't he was more than welcome to hang his belt with them for however long he chose.

To say BA had been flabbergasted was an understatement but he had taken the news better than Chaosia had thought he would. Apparently, he had done something similar while he was in Mexico and had no issue with what they did. Though he had been surprised to learn that she was a member of the younger crew and her brother had actually moved up and into the Old School a few years earlier.

She sighed, turning her thoughts to the Ranger that was supposed to come and get her in-she glanced at the clock and felt herself pale- five minutes. God, he knew she was probably ready and he lived downstairs. Why couldn't he just go ahead and come up here and get the damned waiting over with?

"If you pace anymore you're going to wear a rut in the damn floor, Chaos. And it took us too long to fix these hardwoods. So please come sit down. You look fine and he'll be here on time. Now quit fretting!"

Chaosia rolled her eyes but complied with her brother, sinking down and between him and Sway on the couch. She looked down at her outfit, suddenly apprehensive about the whole damn thing. When she'd called him before leaving the shop at six Murdock had told her to wear pants and comfortable shoes. And to bring a jacket or sweater.

Which had put her in a tizzy. Everything she usually wore that went with jeans was too casual to even think of wearing on a damn date. And though she had her doubts about all of this she wanted to look nice.

So, Sway had taken pity and followed her. And they had spent the better part of an hour on putting together a suitable 'fun date' outfit and sexy-but-not-overly-sexy makeup and hair. Which is how she ended up in the dark washed skinny jeans, just barely distressed enough to look vintage and the light sea glass green silk blouse that matched her eyes. She sighed, picking at the fitted shirt and trying to straighten the artful festoon of chiffon, satin and jersey loops that fell across the cap sleeve cowl neck. The shirt had been Sway's first pick and surprisingly appeased Mikhail's sense of brotherly propriety while satisfying her usually outlandish friend's tastes. The shirt had been an odd find at the vintage shop in the arts district to go under her grey pants suit but Sway insisted on it with the jeans and the cardigan.

She sighed, pulling the sleeves down over her knuckles. The longer-length academy styled cream cardigan was definitely more her pace with the extended cuffs and her father's family crest embroidered over the left breast in the matching shades of blue and green to go well with her shirt. It had been an oddly fitting gift from her paternal grandmother and she was grateful for it tonight.

The dainty, long chained silver locket and the matching blue-green converses made her feel more at home in the otherwise odd ensemble . . . but as a knock on the door announced her date's presence, she felt her heart jump to her throat and her nerves go haywire again.

She shot off the couch and checked her reflection in the mirror on the way to answer Murdock. Her hair was still falling around her face in loose, tousled curls and her make-up was still fresh looking with slightly glowing peachy cheeks and shimmering nude pink lips. Her eyes just barely had a hint of nude shimmer to them and her naturally sooty lashes were lined with dark grey khol and coated in mascara to make them seem thicker. All-in-all, she felt she looked more like the pictures of her mother than herself . . . and she hoped HM could appreciate the difference.

She sighed, swallowing her jitters as she opened the door.

Only to feel them intensify when she saw him.

Murdock's hair was only slightly messy and he had shaved, though not completely, just bringing his usual stubble to a five o'clock shadow. His jeans were light and better fitting than any other pair she'd seen on him so far, meaning that he probably hadn't picked them out for himself. The light heather green tee shirt he had on beneath the cognac brown leather moto styled jacket was stretched tight across his chest. Making it very easy to see the definition everyone usually missed on the wiry pilot.

She made a note to herself to never think that just because he wasn't as bulky as BA or even her brother meant that he was without muscle or definition. Because that damned shirt was proving the thought very untrue.

The jacket itself was fitted and seemed to hug his figure and arms, coming to his knuckles. The look, however, was completed by the same converses he had worn out earlier and the sight of them made her smile. At least they had a love of Chuck Taylors in common.

He smiled nervously at her as she stepped aside and let him, stopping long enough to give her a quick peck on the cheek that had both of them blushing. As he stepped in, he brought a light pink long stemmed camellia from behind his back, presenting it to her with another nervous grin.

She smiled, taking it. No other guy she had ever even thought of dating had brought her flowers unless they were in trouble. And usually it was always red roses, though one guy had brought her orange once . . . the camellia was oddly sweet.

Mihkail and Sway shared a look and moved to leave, Khail stopping long enough to shake Murdock's hand and hug her before he drug Sway out behind him.

Leaving the two of them alone together.

_Again._

* * *

Murdock shuffled his feet, looking Chaos over as she grabbed her keys and wristlet clutch. She had put the camellia in a small budvase with water before going to procure her things, a wistful smile on her glossy lips the whole time.

He smirked. He'd have to thank Face and Hannibal later. They were right, the camellia was a nice touch . . . though he'd almost stroked when the florist had explained that the particular light shade with darker tips had a more significant meaning than the vibrant pink Face had wanted to get. And even after hearing it, Murdock still couldn't set the almost cream flower back down. Something about it just screamed Chaosia . . . and he didn't care if it meant _Longing for You_ or _Building Enduring Passion . . ._

He sighed, turning his thoughts back to Chaos as she started turning out lights.

She really did look nice.

Her outfit was different from what she usually wore but in a good way. The shirt matched her eyes and the jeans showcased her long legs and other very nice things he really didn't need any more attention drawn to. He was going to have a hard enough time as it was. He was glad she'd gotten the cardigan and was wearing comfy shoes like he'd told her . . . but for some reason he kept wanting to reach out and see if the blush on her cheeks was her or makeup. Because he hoped it was him that had given her the rosy glow she was sporting and not MAC.

She turned, smiling at him as she came to stand beside him at the door.

"Ready, Chaos?"

She nodded, reaching to her tiptoes and brushing her lips against his before settling back on her feet. He blinked, mesmerized by the very taste of her. Vanilla and spice and something so much sweeter than anything he'd ever dreamed of . . . and all from a fraction of a second? He would never be able to stop kissing her if he scooped her up the way he wanted to . . .

She blushed and he felt his ego swell. He was the reason she was so glowy. ****

**_Yipee!_**

"Thank you for the flower, HM. It means a lot. How did you know I love Camellias?"

He shrugged, offering her his arm as he held the door for her. When she looped hers through his after locking up, he explained a very censored version of the florist escapade. No need for her to think he was completely incompetent just yet.

"I had to help Faceman pick up something to get him out of the doghouse and it just kind of grabbed me, you know? Face actually wanted me to get you this really bright one but I thought you might like that one better . . . you did, didn't you?"

She giggled-honest to God, sweet as Georgia pie giggled- at him and squeezed his hand as they boarded the elevator. His heart skipped a beat as she laid her head on his shoulder and nodded.

"Yeah . . . that one is really close to the kind that grow around my Grandparents' home near Charleston. I've always liked them the best . . . the really bright ones just seem too . . . odd. But the lighter ones like that just remind me of summer socials and winter formals with the grandparents and my Dad . . . though that was when I was like twelve before we moved out here, of course."

Murdock nodded, dipping to kiss the top of her hair before the doors opened and they set off on the adventure that had been planned for them tonight.

_So far so good . . ._

* * *

As they walked through the Shoreline Village down at Long Beach Harbor, Chaosia practically talked his ear off over every piece of "art" she saw. Each piece being some form of beautiful car or engine that would have Face and BA both drooling. Hannibal had been dead-on to think that his girl would enjoy the festivities happening down at the Harbor . . . especially the vintage car show.

As they had circled the 1966 Shelby 427 Cobra Super Snake, she kept giving the car a look he himself was very familiar with. He had seen it on BA every time a pretty vehicle caught his eye . . . and he wore it himself around most types of aircraft. This girl loved cars in a way he'd only though men could. But apparently he was wrong.

Which was why it wasn't so unnerving that she'd freaked over the sleek turquoise Aston Martin DB6 MKII Vantage Volante 1970, practically worshiping the car before her growling stomach had taken her attention away from it and to being embarrassed.

Murdock, however, just smirked, throwing an arm over her shoulders and pulling her into him. He'd shuffled her off to the Yard House and now they were dining Alfresco on the boardwalk.

He had to admit it, the night was going well. Far better than he'd ever dared hope for . . . and the way she kept shooting him those sweet little smiles and quick glances made him feel like maybe, just maybe tonight would end with the possibility of more outings like this one.

She took a drink of her beer, looking out over the water to watch the boats glide through the harbor. He was so busy watching her, he barley felt her reach across the table and take his hand in hers.

"I'm having a lot of fun, HM. I never would've guessed you'd known about my secret affair with all things automotive. Did BA clue you in?"

Murdock chuckled, bringing her hand to his lips and brushing them over her knuckles. He'd noticed over the course of the evening, by holding her hand and watching the way she actually used them in a normal setting, that her hands were calloused. Not overly so but more than a Doctoral Graduate should've been . . . and her knuckles bore more than a few scars from what looked like old battle wounds. Every time he'd spot a new one, he wanted to kiss it. To wipe away the tiny blemished that had caused her pain at one point. Which was an odd sensation in itself. He wasn't used to wanting to fix anyone else . . .

"That's my secret, Doc. Though I can say the big guy is very impressed with you lovely Chevelle. And your pal Memphis's GT500."

Chaosia threw her head back and laughed, full and hard before shaking her head and wiping the tear trailing down her cheek.

Murdock decided right there that he absolutely loved to hear her laugh. To see her smile with true happiness and not just the wit and sarcasm that kept him on his toes.

"I bet he does. If he knew half of the times that Eleanor had almost killed Memphis then he wouldn't dare breathe on her wrong for fear of inciting his wrath. Or her curse."

Murdock raised a brow, intrigued by this new piece of information.

"Oh? How so?"

She sobered, smiling at him guardedly before nodding once to him.

"Go for a walk with me and I'll tell you . . . too many ears here, you know?"

He raised a brow but shrugged, dropping his card with the waitress before draining his own drink. As soon as he signed the check, they would walk the beach and talk.

_And if they were there all damned night then so be it._

* * *

Chaosia sat on the boardwalk steps, cuffing her jeans to her knees as Murdock stuffed his socks into his shoes. Their converses were sitting side by side, looking oddly at home in the damp sand beside the wooden walkway back to the shops.

She smirked, shaking the thought away as she reached for his hand and drug him down to the waves. Thank goodness he had actually relented and cuffed his own jeans or he would've been soaked with the first crash of surf against their feet. As soo as they were far enough from the Harbor and alone, she started telling him about exactly what their life in Long Beach was like.

He listened, nodding and commenting every now and then as he absorbed the rather long story. Every thing from her father's alleged greatness at the profession to Memphis and his beginnings. Then onward to the formation of the Old School (which she and Kip had been around for most of, though he hadn't been allowed to participate like she had with Mikhail's solo boosts) to Santoro's death and Memphis leaving. When she'd started up about Calitri, he went quiet. He listened about how they'd boosted so many cars at once and saved Kip's hide . . . and brought Memphis back home for pretty much good.

When she started talking about the ongoing rivalry with Johnny B and how even though Memphis had saved Castlebeck's neck the cop seemed determined to put the mostly reformed boost away, Murdock had gotten mad.

"So he saves the guy and he still gets harassed? How is that fair?"

Chaos shrugged, pulling her cardigan tighter around her. Murdock noticed and looped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him as they continued to walk.

"No clue. All I know is the last time he tried to mess with me, Dad totally had him demoted. My Dad may have started out a boost when he came running across the pond to escape my grandparents' tyranny but he made a damn good name for himself legally. That and marrying Mom helped give him a fair amount of legitimate contacts."

Murdock stopped, causing her to look up at him just in time to see a giant red and white firework explode in the night sky. The falling streams of color and light looked breathtaking against the twinkling stars and the lulling water. He smirked, looking back to her for a long moment before pulling her flush against him. As his hand moved to cup her cheek, brushing her hair out of her eyes, he wrapped his other arm around her waist. Effectively securing her against him.

"So . . . do you still . . . _boost_?"

She shrugged, leaning into him a bit further. It was now or never. If he didn't bolt with this then she might just have to keep him.

"Sometimes. I mostly did it before to help Mikhail and to pay for school. Doctorate degrees aren't cheap, you know."

His brow furrowed as he dipped his head a little closer to hers, both of them shivering from something other than the ocean breeze.

"Your Dad wouldn't help you?"

She smiled, rolling her eyes.

"If he had it would be**_ his_** degree. I wanted to do it mostly by myself. I mean, he and Khail were both already in the business so why not? They pretty much taught me everything I know . . . other than a few tips for Italians that Sway imparted of course. Now, I just do it to stay sharp. And to joyride."

"Joyride?"

She nodded, looking up at him as he inched closer.

"Yep. Because nothing beats speeding down the Coast in a beautiful Lady with nothing but the open road in front of you. Its like flying and never leaving the ground."

Murdock chuckled, sliding his cheek against hers and letting the residual stubble tickle her skin. She giggled again, not adverse to the way it felt.

"If you want to**_ fly_**, baby, I can take you up. _Anytime_. Let you see what's it like to have your feet off the ground . . ."

"If my feet _leave_ the ground, Captain Murdock then I just might fall . . ."

He smirked, hugging her tighter as he very softly promised, "I'll catch you, darling."

She sighed, closing her eyes and enjoying the moment. The feel of someone else being strong and grounded, even if it was just for a second, and letting her be the one out of sorts. This was what made him, made this so dangerous. If he wanted to he could literally tear their whole world apart and she'd just given him the key to it . . . but it felt nice to hope-to know- that he wouldn't.

She opened her eyes, locking them with his as he brushed his lips over her own.

"Promise?"

He nodded, a fierce look solidifying into his moss green eyes as he hovered over her parted lips. If he moved forward just a bit then he could close the distance between them. Oh God how she wanted him to do just that . . .

"If you'll let me, darling. Promise. I won't let you break Chaos. I couldn't bear to see it . . ."

And with those words, his lips met hers.

* * *

As the fireworks painted the sky over head, and the waves crashed against their feet, Chaosia knew she was a goner. This brilliant crazy man had taken over almost every single part of her since he'd managed to make himself whole again. And she was beginning to think that she would gladly give him the rest . . .

* * *

Eventually, they made their way back to their shoes. And, after discussing the pros and cons of walking around with sand in their shoes, decided to walk the boardwalk back to the car barefoot. As they passed the Super Snake, Chaosia had given the shining blue roadster a loving pat and affectionate gaze. Murdock smirked, pulling her into him and kissing her cheek.

"So, think you could take this bad boy?"

She laughed, pushing him lightly as she nodded. When they got to the car, she turned and leaned into him. Still wearing a Cheshire grin. She looked up at him, the same gleam in her eye from before their talk.

"Yep. I happen to be a pro, Captain. That means no car stands in my way . . . unless its Russian and then I don't even bother. No real need or call to, you know?"

He nodded, dipping to kiss her quickly and heatedly. Her arms wound around his neck as his pulled her completely against him. They moved until her back was against the R8, which gave him a wonderful opportunity to lift her and sit her on the tail of the car. Because he'd discovered the damn thing didn't really possess a trunk. As their mouths moved in sync he knew he would be hard pressed to step away from her again.

He just couldn't seem to stop his lips from taking purchase on her skin since their kiss in the sand. And he wasn't too sure he wanted to.

Finally, the need for air made them part, though neither tried to shy away. He pressed his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. He groaned, liberating the abused lip with his own and running his tongue over it to sooth swollen flesh. He pulled back again, cupping her face in his hands as hers slid up and into his now probably unruly hair.

"Be my girlfriend."

She blinked, looking at him owlishly before asking, "What?"

HE sighed, kissing her again before repeating himself.

"Be my girlfriend. Me amie. La mia amica. Mi novia. Wangu mroro. However you want to say it, Chaosia. Just say it. Be mine."

She sighed, leaning in to press her lips against his before . . . nodding.

"Yeah, HM. I'll be your girlfriend . . . "

He whooped out loud, jumping up and down before turning and kissing her again as she laughed. As they disentangled themselves and climbed in the car, Murdock never lost his almost manic grin. She'd said yes . . . he couldn't wait to tell Face.

_He'd just let her tell her brother and her father . . ._

* * *

_Later alligators. I'm off to bed._


	11. Fixing Me

_This chapter is almost pure fluff . . . because Murdock deserves the love, damn it. I swear everything gets back on track next chapter but I couldn't get this to leave me alone. So they got to play._

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* * *

_

**Fixing Me**

Murdock rolled over, sinking further into the ultra-soft bedding and mattress with a contented sigh, curling around the petite and curvaceous source of heat that was hogging the covers . He inhaled deeply as he nuzzled into the silky soft curls at his nose, taking in the hints of vanilla and spice.

_God how he loved that smell . . ._

His eyes shot open as he practically tore himself away from the source of the heat and the scent, looking down at himself. His chest was bare, leaving all of the scars and imperfections from his imprisonment and torture exposed for the world to see. He looked around, barely recognizing his new bedroom. The navy sheets and dark navy and olive plaid comforter were puddled around his waist, but something was off . . . it had been far too hot in his bed for just the sheets and comforter. Movement beside him alerted him to the cause.

There, stretched across his bed on her side with her golden curls splayed around her head like a halo was Chaosia. And from what he could see, she was barely clad in one of his heather gray wife beaters and these delectable little white lacy panties that barely covered anything at all.

Murdock knew he was probably pale as a ghost but at the moment he couldn't quite bring himself to care. There, laying in his bed like she freaking belonged there, was the girl that had just been occupying his dreams . . . Dear God what in the Sam Hell had happened last night?

He watched her sleep, willing his mind to work and forcing the events from the previous day to replay. If there was ever a time to be thankful for the photographic memory that usually worked to torment him it was now.

He'd taken her car to her, gotten her to agree to dinner and met her friend. Dinner had been a hit, coming in after their walk through the show, and had led to the long and revealing walk on the beach. He shifted, looking her over as he remembered exactly how she'd professed to putting herself through graduate school. It was so easy now, even as she slept to see that the little things that had set her off against the others at Camarillo (with the exception of Weaver) and made her seem so . . . odd were carry-overs from living exactly the way the team had for over a year.

_And to think she'd done it for years._

He shook himself, going back through his memory, trying to put the rest together. HE was never this dull in the morning . . . even under the influence of drugs. The walk had led to them going back to the car, and the groping session on the back of the damn car that had been forced on him. He smirked as one of the more important details came to light. She'd agreed to see him. Exclusively.

He sighed, settling back into the bed, reaching out to pull the covers over them as he let his mind continue to replay the night.

They'd come back to his apartment, him inviting her in for a drink. And it'd all gone uphill from there. The drink had quickly turned into nuked s'mores and coffee, with Cat on a Hot Tin Roof playing in the back ground as they ate and laughed, sharing their crazier stories. He'd told her about Mexico and she'd told him about how she knew for fact that her Chevelle would go beneath a tractor trailer rig. He'd been laughing as she'd told him about her and Sway getting out of a ticket with two cops in a very hot and very stolen Lamborghini when he noticed the smear of chocolate on the corner of her lip.

He'd leaned in to wipe away the bit of gooey goodness with his thumb . . . but when she'd turned and kissed his then chocolate smeared thumb with a decidedly evil glint to her eye he hadn't been able to contain himself anymore. The rest of the evening had very quickly progressed into a flurry of hands and lips and whispered secrets in the darkness of his bedroom. Landing them pretty much the same way that he'd woken up.

Chaosia stirred, rolling over and snuggling into his chest with a contented sigh before settling back into a deep sleep. He smiled, brushing her curls out of her face and pressing his lips to her forehead.

_He definitely saw the appeal in repeating this everyday . . ._

* * *

Chaosia woke up slowly, which in itself was odd. Usually, when she regained consciousness it was instantaneous . . . she rarely ever got to wake up in stages. Or savor actually being able to lounge and enjoy the sensation. She opened her eyes briefly before stretching and rolling over, snuggling back into the warm navy and plaid bed. She had almost drifted back to sleep when she realized her own bed dressings were cream and bluish gray.

She shot up, eyes darting around the room as she gathered her bearings . . . and cheeks flushed bright red. _Screw red, she knew they were probably magenta at this point._

She was in HM's home. In his bed. And, apparently, his shirt.

She groaned, laying her head in her hands as the realization hit. They'd gone out, come back and enjoyed each other's company. And over the course of the outing she'd agreed to start seeing him . . . as his girlfriend. The swell of relief that hit her was almost tangible for some reason. It felt good to know that this wasn't a mistake or alcohol induced lunacy . . . both of which she'd done before (and didn't care to repeat thank you very much). It was just her sleep addled brain not wanting to function that had caused the panic . . . but where was he?

A knock on the door brought her head up just in time for HM to walk in the room, two heaping plates of divine smelling food balanced precariously in his hands. He blushed when he saw the way she was looking at him but she couldn't help it. Even though she'd seen as much of him the night before as humanly possible he still managed to wow her clad in a faded black Air wolf tee shirt and gray plaid lounge pants. His cheeks were still flushed pink as he handed her a plate and set his on one of the nightstands.

She raised a brow, eying the food. Just how long had he been up and how long had he let her sleep?

He smiled at her, leaning in to give her a small peck on the cheek before starting to prattle on nervously. She had to fight her giggles as she watched him settle on the foot of the bed, careful to put just the right amount of distance between them without being overly obvious.

"Morning, Chaos. Hope you like French Toast and eggs . . . coffee's almost done and the syrup should be just about warmed up by now. Do you take sugar? Cream? If you do just tell me and I'll-"

She laid her hand over his mouth, chuckling as she effectively cut off his ramblings. He took the hint, drawing in a deep breath before nipping her hand with his teeth. He snapped his teeth at her fingers as she withdrew her hand, making a very convincing Pac Man sound effect as she squeaked.

Chaosia laughed setting her own plate on her nightstand before reaching up to cup his face in her hands, cutting him off mid chomp. One of his hands came up to cup hers against his face as the other found her own cheek, carefully brushing his thumb across her lips. She smiled at him , leaning in and brushing her lips against his softly. As she drew back, she didn't move far, letting them almost touch as she spoke to him.

"Good Morning, HM. Slow down, honey . . . we don't have to cram everything into today. This isn't the only morning we'll have together . . ."

He chuckled, blushing again as he leaned into her touch.

"I really that obvious, Doc?"

She shook her head, kissing him again.

"Only to someone who knows you, Captain."

He nodded, leaning forward, resting his forehead against hers as his green eyes bore into her blue green. His thumb was caressing her cheek again and she forced herself to smile for him, hating the way he looked so lost and vulnerable and very nearly broken as he closed his eyes. His next words cemented her decision that if she ever found who did this to him, they wouldn't survive the encounter. No one deserved this._ Especially not him._

"Most people who get to know me usually head for the hills. Afraid the crazy is contagious . . . Hannibal and the guys were the only ones who ever stuck around . . ."

She squeezed his hand reassuringly, kissing him again.

"I'm not most people, HM. And the only place I plan on running is up to my apartment to change-" she kissed him again, this time a bit longer and fuller than before-"Besides, if you plan on making me breakfast in bed every time I stay over I may never leave . . . I can't resist a crazy genius that cooks . . ."

His lips spread into a truly wicked grin as his eyes took on an almost manic gleam. Chaosia barely had time to react before he lunged, his fingers dancing lightly down her sides causing her to squeal and kick. Her laughter filled the apartment as he pinned her, settling himself between her bare legs as he tickled her and laughed with her.

"Oh, so you love crazy cooks, huh? How about insane tickle monsters?"

She giggled, finally shouting, "Uncle! Uncle! I surrender, I surrender!"

He stopped, propping himself up on an elbow as he watched her giggles subside and her breathing even out. She leaned up, face still flushed from her laughter, kissing him on the chin.

"I think I could learn to love a crazy tickle monster too . . . But you're not crazy, HM. You're just as sane as me . . ."

He snorted, rolling his eyes.

"So says the woman who likes to 'borrow' cars and try to break the sound barrier. You don't mind if I get a second opinion . . ."

Chaosia glared up at him before nipping the underside of his jaw. _**Hard.**_ Murdock groaned, crushing his mouth to hers as his hands made their way under her shirt and to tangle in her curls. Not to be out done, Chaosia started tugging at his clothes, her mouth moving feverishly against his. He groaned as she whimpered, both working hard to divest the other first.

_Breakfast was going to have to wait . . ._

* * *

Hours later, Murdock and Chaosia had migrated north to Chaosia's living room and redressed in comfy clothes. Lounging on her couch.

Murdock had stretched out, feet propped on the ottoman while she had snuggled into his side, head on his chest and her hands lazily tracing patterns on her tee shirt clad 'pillow'. They were currently watching the science channel, oddly enough, and completely enraptured by the aircraft special they'd stumbled upon flipping channels. Every time a copter would pop on the screen, Chaosia would ask questions and he would answer. And every car commercial they saw (and at this point he'd counted at least twenty) he'd ask her if she'd ever stolen it and how.

To say the least, it was turning into an educational experience. She'd learned he favored copters over planes, especially anything from Nam or later, and he'd learned that she could be in a 2010 Mustang and gone in about 40 seconds. A record that had yet to be broken though the boys were always trying.

Other than that, so far she'd been content to listen to him and answer, lounging on him as he delved into his memories and imagined hers. Some of the things she'd pulled when she was younger reminded him an awful lot of Hannibal and Face . . . speaking of which . . .

"Uh, Chaosia?"

She looked up, brow raised.

He gulped. Why was this so hard? He'd already met her damn father and her brother (though he hadn't been her boyfriend then but that was just splitting hairs in his opinion) so it was only natural that he's want her to meet the people that were as close to family as he had left. _And she and BA seemed to get along swell . . ._

"I, uh, want you to meet Hannibal and Face . . ."

She blinked before shrugging, settling back into him as she returned her eyes to the screen.

"Sure . . . when?"

He sighed, relieved that she wasn't going to make a big fuss over the request. He kissed her forehead, hugging her to him in gratitude.

"We could meet them for lunch . . . if you want."

Chaosia shrugged again, kissing his chest.

"Whatever you want honey. We can do that. What do I need to wear?"

He smirked, his hand sliding beneath the shirt she was wearing and caressing the expanse of bare skin as he commented nonchalantly, "I personally have discovered a newfound appreciation of you nude . . . but considering that Face will be there clothes are a definite must. So, you can wear whatever you want."

She rolled her eyes, smacking him as she sat up and looked at him skeptically. He smirked then let out a startled little gasp as she moved. In the blink of an eye, she was straddling his lap, hand planted firmly on his shoulders as she tsked at him, shaking her head. As soon as the shock wore of, he smirked up at her, settling his hand firmly on her hips to prevent her from moving again.

"Damnation Doc, you move fast don't you?"

She shrugged, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she smirked at him.

"Didn't hear you complaining last night, _Captain_ . . . you are, by the way, oh so helpful on wardrobe selection."

He smiled up at her, pulling her a bit further down on his lap. She really was beautiful. Especially like this. When she wasn't guarding herself and being so professional. The sweetness he'd loved was still there but all of this other was just so much more enticing . . . he was never going to get tired of her. And he next words proved it as they sent as small chill up his spine.

"Care to join me for a shower, Ranger? You could help me find appropriate attire after that . . ."

Murdock stopped, pretending to debate the issue for moment before shooting off the couch, carrying her to her bathroom as she laughed and hugged him. He nudged the door open, kissing her soundly before dropping her on the vanity before turning to set the water. He knew this was moving fast but as he helped liberate her soft skin from the tyrannical confines of his shirt, exposing her flesh to his more than eager hands and lips he couldn't muster enough will to care.

Every touch was another seal on his demons. Every kiss another chunk of his sanity regained and cemented. And every time he lost himself in her-with her- he came just a bit closer to being whole again.

Dr. Richter had told him once that he would never be able to help himself without loving himself. And that without that love, no other kind would last and nothing to help him would take . . . But since he'd found Chaosia, he'd begun to wonder if Richter had ever met anyone like her. Because she made him love himself, or at least the part that had brought her to him.

As she tugged his shirt over his head, she made sure to kiss the X-shaped scar over his heart. She alone knew that Kell had sliced it into his flesh in a cruel mockery of his undying loyalty to his team . . .but she'd made him appreciate the marred flesh more than any other battle scar he possessed. She'd even confessed to loving it, as much as anyone could love a scar, anyway.

His heart is always crossed, she'd said and it just added to his sincerity.

He shook himself, stepping into the shower behind her. As she stood on her tip toes and kissed him, he felt his worries wash away with her kisses and the hot water. Leaving him with the almost overwhelming knowledge that with each kiss and touch, every time she trusted him and giggled for him, that she was making him fix himself.

He'd call Hannibal and Face and invite them to a late lunch . . . _a very late lunch . . ._

* * *

_I know. Its sappy. Later._


	12. Authors note! Please Read Me!

Okay, i hate to do this but I have no choice. Lighting decided to make an enemy of my computer and won the epic battle that resulted. Meaning that until Gateway decides to get off their asses and send me the new computer that my warranty dictates they owe me then updates might be scarce. But have no fear, i am working on this story and i am so sorry to have to delay because of this. I already had another two chapters ready to post and then the lights went out . . . so please be patient. Thanks for all of the support and the reviews. And I swear to update as soon as humanly possible. Thanks guys and gals.

Love you all,

Chaosia.


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